The Farmer's Wife
by tellyoscar
Summary: On the night of one of the most brutal snow storms in Virginia's history Rick Grimes encountered an alluring woman stranded on the side of a rural Virginia road with a dead cell phone and broken down car.
1. Chapter One: The Beautiful Stranger

_**A/N:**_ _I will hopefully be updating 'The New Beginning' very soon. Don't worry, I didn't abandon it. I am in the process of writing the next chapter. It's a bit difficult because I hate what I've written so far. I finally have a lot more free time to write, so hopefully this story will help me get into the mind frame for writing._

 **Chapter One: The Beautiful Stranger**

It was the night of one of the worst snowstorm's in Virginia's history when Rick first saw her. He was driving back from the store and she was sitting in her car on the shoulder of the road with a dead cell phone and a blinking broken-down car while the heavy snow plummeted to the ground.

His nine-year-old son, Carl, had met his eyes when they saw the raised hood and blinking lights. "We should help?" he said through a mouthful of potato chips.

Rick pulled off to the side of the road. "Wait here."

He stepped out of his truck, approaching what appeared to be a woman sitting in the car. As he grew closer he saw her eyes slightly widen at the sight of him. "You okay?" he asked when she hastily rolled down her window.

"Yeah…I mean no. Not really. I think I'm a little lost." She stepped out of the car, pulling her jacket tighter against her body, and balled her hands into fists in reaction to the cold air. She wore flowy colorful clothing and wasn't particularly dressed for standing on the side of a road in rural Virginia during a winter storm. "I'm trying to get back to Alexandria. I think I took a wrong turn or something. I stopped to try to figure out where I am, but then my car wouldn't start and now I'm stuck here."

"You sure did take a wrong turn. Did you contact roadside assistance?"

She hesitated before finally answering. "My phone died. I didn't have any service when I tried to make a call anyway." She looked conflicted as she pressed her full lips together in a slight grimace. "Do you have a phone on you? I need to call for some help. Also, can you possibly tell me where exactly I am."

"I don't have a phone on me," he said apologetically. "I left it back at the farm since I rarely have any service around here anyway."

"Fucking great," she groaned, slumping back against her car in defeat. "This day can't get any worse before it's over."

"You can ride back with us and we can call for a tow truck or something," he suggested. "I highly doubt you'd get any tonight though. This is a pretty secluded area and this storm is supposed to be bad. They're expecting eight inches and they think it might be the worst since 1983."

She took a small step closer to her car door as her dark eyes quickly darted between him and her car as she considered his offer. "I get it," he chuckled. "Going off with a stranger is not always the best idea. But, I've gotta tell you. That snow is coming down harder and harder and you're not going to make it back to the city tonight. You can trust me. I have no reason to hurt you or anyone."

She smiled tightly. "Right."

"My place is not too far from here." He looked back at the car where Carl was staring intently out of the windshield. "We are actually just getting back from picking up supplies."

"We?"

"My son Carl and I."

"This better not end in my murder," she grumbled and he could hear the small waver in her voice. She cocked her head and raised a challenging brow at him. "Try anything and I'll kick your ass."

She turned back to her car, opening her door to grab her personal belongings, which consisted of her handbag and an orange medium sized travel duffel.

Rick held the front passenger door for her to get in while Carl curiously observed the woman from his seat in the back of the truck. "Hi, I'm Carl."

"Michonne." Her lips curled into that breathtaking smile that Rick would come to love like no other as the years passed. It stood out in a beautiful contrast against her mahogany skin. "And what about you Mr. Samaritan?"

"Rick," he said as he started the truck.

She hummed, flipping her dark dreadlocked hair, which was sprinkled with snow, over her shoulder. "Nice to meet you, Rick and Carl. Thanks a lot for stopping to help."

"We're happy to."

The short ride to the farm was mostly a quiet one. Rick drove along the bumpy dirt road, cautiously aware of Michonne's discomfort with the seclusion of where they were headed. The farm was covered in shrubbery and overgrown trees from years of disuse.

He drove as close as he could manage to the main house, putting the car in park. "This is us."

"Dad and I are gonna be farmers," Carl proclaimed somewhat proudly.

"Really? That sounds like fun."

"Yeah. We're even getting another horse and some more animals and everything. And we're going to grow food."

They stepped out of the truck and Rick watched as Michonne took in the dark Victorian style house with old unshuttered windows. In the darkness of the night it must have looked like something out of a horror movie. He fished out his keys as he led the way up the front steps. The front door opened with a loud creak and he quickly flipped on the lights as to not make an already seemingly creepy situation any more uncomfortable.

"You're just in time for dinner." He dropped his keys on the table near the door, stepping back so they could enter and he could close the door.

"Am I?" She gave him a small smile. "Well how about I use the phone first? I'd really like to figure out my situation first before diving into what I'm sure is a wonderful meal."

"Oh right," he said. He had completely forgotten about the main purpose for her presence in his new home. "This way." He led her to the wall phone in the room, which was more of a hallway, just off the kitchen. "It's a bit old fashioned," he explained. "We haven't fully settled in yet."

When he met her eyes, they were soft and filled with a mixture of gratitude and curiosity. "Thank you, Rick."

His heartbeat quickened at the sound of his name on her lips. It was as if her mouth caressed every syllable of every word she spoke. Instead of a verbal response, he simply nodded and left her to make her call in private and returned to the kitchen where he began making three placements for dinner. He was certain that she would not be able to leave that night and he would need to also get one of the guest bedrooms ready for her.

"What's for dinner?" Carl asked, pulling out a chair at the table.

Rick was completely useless in the kitchen and often relied on his sister-in-law's generosity and love for cooking. Their freezer happened to be stocked with her premade meals. "Your aunt's vegetarian lasagna. I preheated the oven before I left."

Carl shrugged. "As long as you didn't make it, I'm cool."

"I'm getting better," he defended, as he pulled out the containers to heat the food. "You liked my potatoes."

Carl averted his gaze before plastering on a wide smile. "Sure. You did a good job Dad."

"Thanks for sparing my feelings son."

"Any time."

As Rick put their dinner in the oven he couldn't help but listen as Michonne's clearly irritated voice echoed from the other room.

"Michael, I've told you before," her heard her say. He imagined her brow was furrowed and her free arm crossed in front of her. "Because that's who you are to me. I knew better than to expect more. I don't understand how you always manage to ruin things for me no matter how far away I am from you. You're like a fucking cancer." She paused no doubt, because the person on the other end was talking over her. "Leave him right where he is. He's fine with my mother."

The sound of the phone slamming down echoed through the house and Carl looked up from his handheld game, meeting his father's eyes.

The house was deathly silent for a few minutes before soft padding of feet alerted them of her approach. They quickly averted their gaze, pretending that he hadn't been listening to every word she said after she hung up with the towing service, then called a woman named Sasha before finally making a call this person named Michael.

"Bad news all around," she sighed, pressing her hand to her forehead as she reentered the kitchen.

"It's a good thing we have lots of extra room," Carl piped up, his eyes quickly flitting to his father.

"Thanks." She smiled warmly at Carl. "I just really needed to get home, though." It explained why she felt inclined to drive when there clearly was a storm coming.

"Hopefully it will clear up by tomorrow and your car situation can get sorted out. It might be a while for the plows though." Rick gestured for her to take a seat at one of the placements. "I hope you like lasagna."

"It smells really good in here, so I'm sure I'll love it. I'm actually starving."

"Dinner will be served in…" Carl looked at his watch. "Thirty-two more minutes."

"Sorry," Rick smiled apologetically. "It'll be a little while. We don't usually eat this late, but we've been running errands all day."

"I'm not complaining," she said sinking down into one of the chairs. "I'm just glad I'm no longer stranded on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere. I really appreciate you stopping and helping me."

"Glad we could help." Rick took a seat across from her, his eyes hardly leaving her. He didn't think he'd ever seen a face quite as beautiful as hers. Her eyes were wide and doe-like and she had beautifully rounded lips that look like they could produce kisses like no other.

"Hey Michonne?" Carl regarded her with curiosity. "What do you do? Are you an actress or something?"

She laughed, her dark eyes twinkling at the suggestion. "I'm actually an artist slash wedding planner slash mother."

"Cool," he grinned. "You have kids?"

"Just one," she answered. "His name is André and he's four." Rick quickly glanced down at her hand, feeling inexplicably relieved to see her bare left ring finger. The relief quickly subsided when he realized that there could still be someone even if her hand was ringless.

They conversed about art, the creative culture of Alexandria, Virginia and the weather for some time and before they knew it, the food was ready to leave the oven.

"This is really delicious Rick," Michonne said, as she took her first bite of her dinner. "You're a chef too?"

"I wish I could take credit, but this is all my sister-in-law's doing," he admitted. "I'm learning though. I'm going to have to if Carl and I plan on surviving here."

Shortly after dinner, Rick showed Michonne to the downstairs guest bedroom leaving her to her own devices as he accompanied his son upstairs. He figured she might feel safer on the first floor where she was closer to the exit.

"I like her," Carl said simply after he had climbed into his bed. "She's really cool."

Rick's lips turned up in a small smile as he regarded the boy. It had been nice seeing him so interactive with someone outside their immediate close friends and family. They had endured one tragedy after another and after the passing of his mother, Carl had reverted into himself. Then farm came as an unexpected opportunity for them to start over, but it also brought with it isolation.

"Yeah. She seems nice."

"You know, you don't have to tuck me in anymore."

Rick raised a brow at his son. "Getting too old for that?"

Carl shrugged, not meeting his eyes. "Don't know. Maybe."

"Alright." He placed a quick kiss on his forehead. "Whatever you say. Goodnight son."

Carl let out a loud yawn, his eyes beginning to droop with tiredness. "Night Dad."

When he returned downstairs, she was standing near the fireplace in their expansive living room calmly taking in the bareness of his new home.

"Came back to murder me now that the kid is finally asleep?"

"Can't sleep actually. You know, I understood your hesitation," he said, attempting to make conversation. "You really can't trust most people these days."

"True." Her smile was hypnotizing and he almost felt as if he was under a spell. There was a light that resonated within her that was absolutely captivating. "I admire your helpfulness though. For all you know _I_ could be a killer. Don't make underestimations Mr. Grimes."

"I try not to," he said, walking further into the room. He wanted to be closer to her. "As a cop, I was trained to look for certain things."

She raised her eyebrow, giving him a onceover slowly circling him. "A cop? You didn't mention that while you were trying to pick me up. I guess it kind of makes sense though. You seem cop-ish."

"Sheriff to be exact," he clarified. "I don't do that anymore though."

"I can see that." She looked pointedly around the room. "You look a little young for retirement though. Unless it was something else. Suspension turned permanent termination? I hope you weren't abusing your power Sherriff."

He shook his head, plopping down on the couch with a heavy sigh as he thought about his past two years of bombshells and tragedies. "Sometimes it's just time to give it all up. Begin again."

"So, you became a farmer instead." Her voice sounded incredulous, which was understandable because it seemed clear that he wasn't completely certain about the whole farmer business. There really wasn't much he was completely certain about anymore these days.

"It's a work in progress." He glanced at the pictureless walls and the living room devoid of anything overtly personal. "We haven't gotten a chance to decorate yet," he explained feeling slightly self-conscious. He didn't know why he was telling her this. "We still have some remodeling to do."

She met his eyes, giving him that warm smile of hers. "I think it has character." She slowly paced the room. "There's a lot of potential here Rick. I'd be happy to come back and offer some decorating expertise if I make it out of here alive."

"I'll hold you to that." He certainly wouldn't mind seeing her face again.

"That sounds promising for me. Plus, I'm enjoying your company so far so that won't be too bad." She strode over to him, taking a seat on the couch beside him. A smile played on her lips as she angled her body towards him. "Now, tell me. Why can't you sleep?" Her wide brown eyes seemed to gaze into his soul. "Still a bit creeped out by your great big new house? This place his huge."

"That, amongst other things," he chuckled feeling surprisingly at ease around her. "I haven't had a decent night's sleep in ages actually."

"What happened?"

He looked at her confused. "You're a seemingly single father in a new house and what I assume to be a new town and you seem a little in over your head."

"Wow. Well someone's observant."

"So I've been told." Her voice was gentle and her eyes were the kindest he's ever seen on a person. "You don't have to tell me if you're not comfortable with that."

"You sure you're not a psychiatrist?" he joked. But for the first time since it happened, he wanted to talk about his dead ex-wife and his unexpected inheritance of an old farm that was at one point very prosperous. He felt her soft hand wrapping around one of his and was filled with warmth at the simple contact.

"Almost positive," she grinned. "Although, I've heard art can be beneficial for mental and emotional ailments."

"Well, I'm originally from Georgia. I used to be a sheriff in a small town outside Atlanta. I loved my job and I loved my life up until about two years ago when everything started going south." He paused staring at the shadows the low light casted on walls. "My marriage fell apart, I got a divorce, then six months ago Carl lost his mother, so it's just the two of us now. On a farm that my father-in-law left for me."

She gave his hand a comforting squeeze and everything seemed to spill out of him. He told her about his struggle to comfort his son and his need to begin again. When the conversation started getting heavy they moved on to conversing about a plethora of general subjects, never getting any more personal, and Rick was surprised to find that they even shared some commonalities. They were also both from Georgia and relatively new to Virginia. As the time passed, it was clear there was an attraction between them and he frequently found himself pulling his eyes away from her beautifully full lips.

"You have extremely terrible taste in music Rick," she laughed after he explained in detail his love for a particular obscure country band. "It's unbelievable. It's so _bad_."

"You just don't appreciate the classics. Shame on you."

He was enjoying her company and she seemed to be enjoying his and the prospect of their conversation ending saddened him. He could listen to her voice all night.

He wanted to listen to her voice all night and perhaps much longer.

She was quiet now, staring into his eyes with her deep brown eyes. The room was silent except for their breathing and the air between them was electrifying and heavy with sexual tension. Her eyes quickly flitted to his lips, but she otherwise remained motionless.

Her soft melodic voice broke the silence. "Shall we call it a night?"

Instead on responding, he found himself leaning forward towards her. Her breathing hitched as he cupped her face with his hand, softly brushing her mahogany cheek with his thumb. Without even thinking their lips met in the dimly lit room and he found himself hovering over her as they kissed slowly and sensually.

She seemed content to let him lead and relaxed back against the couch, as her fingers found his hair running through his dark curls. She let out a soft moan as his hands began to explore her body. His lips moved away from hers, ghosting along her collarbone as his hands slipped under the hem of her sweater. He grabbed her leg wrapping it around his waist and he was sure she could feel his erection through the fabric of their pants as their kiss deepened.

He pushed himself off her with one hand and the other remained under her sweater just below her breast. "Sorry for mauling you like that. I've been wanting to kiss you for hours," he said through heavy breaths. He didn't want her to feel as though he expected something in return for the kindness he showed. "Don't –"

"I know." Her pupils were dilated. "Don't worry. The attraction is mutual." She folded her arms around his neck, pulling him in for another kiss. Her fingers found his hair once again and he started kissing her neck, sucking her skin and inhaling her intoxicating scent.

"I don't usually do things like this and I'd hate to get caught," she said breathily as his lips moved lower.

He let out a heavy sigh, brushing his lips against her collarbone as he considered why it wouldn't be wise to continue. "Neither do I."

She continued to run her fingers lazily through his hair. Although, they would not be taking things any further than heated kissing on that night, Rick couldn't help but hope for another day. Another opportunity to lay eyes on the beautiful woman again once they went their separate ways in the morning.

He sat back on his haunches, his eyes never leaving her as she remained on her back her locks splayed around her head like a halo. She looked remarkably angelic in the dim light and he wanted nothing more than to feel her delicately sculpted body against his.

"Maybe we could see each other again after this," she said sweetly. "You know, when the storm clears up. I'd love to see Rick Grimes again sometime."

It sounded like a date was in their future."

"I wouldn't mind seeing you gain either." He didn't miss the suggestiveness of her tone and he tried to discretely adjust himself. "So, now would be when we call it a night."

Michonne nodded, adjusting her rumpled clothing as she stood up. "Night Rick. See you in the morning?"

"When?"

"When what?"

"When can I see you again?"

"I have an art exhibit next Saturday in Alexandria. Maybe you can come by if you're free. I'll give you the address."

He nodded slowly as he rose from the couch, walking slowly and deliberately to where she stood. His hand found her hip and he pulled her in for another kiss. It was quicker this time, but they were both left catching their breaths. " _Now_ it's goodnight."

A smile played on her lips and she simply nodded before strolling out of the room, heading down the hallway that led to the guest room. Rick shut his eyes trying to get himself in check. That night, as he walked to his own bedroom, the prospect of seeing her again fresh on his mind, something occurred to him. How on earth did she know his last name?

 **A/N: Let me know what you think. This is just an idea that came to me and it will be fun to write.**

 **Next update is for 'The New Beginning'**


	2. Chapter Two: The Snow Day

_Thanks so much for the amazing responses to the first chapter. I'm so happy that so many of you like this story and I can't wait to write more for your enjoyment. I hope you all enjoy this chapter. It's a short one, but there's more goodies to come._

 **Chapter Two: The Snow Day**

* * *

On her first morning on the farm, Rick found a kitchen filled with laughter and mouth-watering aromas. They had lost power sometime during the night and he went out to recheck the backup generator, leaving Carl and Michonne in the kitchen. She wore her locks atop her head in a bun and she was wearing a loose sweater and jeans that hugged her curves.

The night before, during his nightly bouts of sleeplessness she remained on his mind. He pictured her sound asleep in the downstairs guest room without a care in the world. Life, unfortunately, was not like that for him.

"And then he just jumped on the table," Michonne explained animatedly, as Carl grinned up at her, deeply engrossed in her story. "It was a complete disaster and there were a lot of very important people who were just losing it."

"Wow, that's crazy. No wonder I wasn't allowed to get a pet," he mused. "Well except now of course. Dad's more okay with it now that we're living here and neither of us are allergic. He even said I could have a dog. I think he prefers that instead of the younger sibling I asked for."

"Is that so?" She raised her brow at his revelation of his unusual request. "Well, dogs are the best pets you could possibly have. I have a little dog myself. His name is Snoopy and he's like a little child."

"What kind? Can I meet him?"

"I'm sure we can figure something out."

"Dad should probably meet him too, so we can get an idea on what kind to get," he said, twisting his mouth thoughtfully. "I kind of want a big one."

Rick remained in the kitchen entryway, watching their easy exchange in amazement. They continued with their conversation, completely unaware of his presence. "Something smells good," he finally said making himself known.

Michonne whirled away from the stovetop to face him, a radiant smile overtaking her face. "Well hello again. Everything okay out there?"

"Yeah," he sighed. "Power won't be a problem, but it will definitely be a while before the roads clear. That was some blizzard we had last night. The roadside assistant guy already said it, but it's clear you won't be going anywhere soon. This is a pretty secluded area and with how horrible the roads are, it's just not possible since the storm has blocked the one road out of here and this area is always treated last. So, we have you to ourselves for a little while longer. I know your family must be worried."

He longed to touch her again or wrap her in his arms. Any form of physical contact would satisfy him.

"I called my mother while you were out and let her know I'm still safe since she's the one watching my son at the moment." There was a slight annoyance in her tone. She grabbed a plate, loading some eggs onto it, before turning back to him. "She freaked out when I told her I was in a strange man's house, by the way."

"Did you tell her there' no need to worry about the strange man?"

"Time will tell," she hummed, shooting him a playful wink. "I hope you're hungry. That shoveling and cold whether must have worked up an appetite."

"Michonne made homemade waffles Dad," Carl said in an almost disapproving tone as if to say, 'you need to do better Dad'.

"Hey, I'm pretty good with breakfast," he defended meeting Michonne's eyes. "I make amazing pancakes. You said so yourself."

"He does," Carl allowed. "His isn't as lumpy as Mom's used to be, I guess. I've never had pancakes better than my Dad's. Maybe you can come over for breakfast sometime Michonne. You know, after you leave."

Rick attempted to keep a neutral expression, but his son surprised him. First with the casual mention of his mother that never failed to surprise Rick and then with the immediate liking he had taken to the beguiling woman who he seemed determined to bring back to their home once she left them. Like Rick, he wanted nothing more than to see her again once the roads were clear and she could freely leave.

"That sounds like a very tempting offer."

"I have a little food critic on my hands. The new Gordon Ramsay," Rick groaned. "Thanks for this," he said gratefully to Michonne, not sure if he was thanking her for breakfast, being kind to his son or just her general company. It had been a while since he interacted with an adult other than his sister-in-law.

She waved him off. "It's the least I can do for my rescuers."

"How did you even do this?" He pointed to the waffle on his plate. "Get it like that. I've only had the pre-packaged ones."

She regarded him with amusement, pressing her lips together as if she were trying not to laugh. "You have a waffle iron, Rick."

"I do?"

"Yes, you do." She brought another plate to the table, patting his shoulder as she leaned next to him to place it down. "A very good one at that. You should get started on being the best at making waffles too."

"Must have already been here when we moved in."

"That's why we need to unpack everything," Carl said, through a mouthful of food. "I bet there's a lot of cool stuff in the basement. If only you'd let me go down."

"What happened to your intense fear of spiders?"

"What happened to that being a phase?"

Michonne laughed at the father-son banter. "Is this what your breakfast table is usually like?"

"That and more," Rick answered. "And it doesn't just stop at the table. This is us all the time."

There was a lighter than usual atmosphere in the house as they ate their breakfast together. As he watched her interactions with Carl, he couldn't help the images of her always being present at the breakfast table that clouded his mind. He snapped out of thoughts when he heard a throat clearing. He looked up to find Michonne regarding him curiously and he knew how strange he must have looked staring at her, completely oblivious and unresponsive to the question apparently posed.

"Sorry?"

"Can we go outside after breakfast?" Carl repeated.

"Sure, you can get your coat and snow stuff on when you're done eating. I have to finish shoveling us out anyway. A thick blanket of snow covered the grounds. I barely made it out the front door."

"Snowball fight?" Michonne grinned, raising an eyebrow at Carl.

He eagerly returned her grin. "Snowball fight."

When they stepped outside after breakfast, the sky was gray and it was still very windy, but the snowfall had at least subsided. He could feel the wind cutting through his layers of clothing and he glanced over to Michonne and wondered if she was warm enough. He didn't know much about women's fashion but her coat seemed to be designed more for style than for warmth.

Rick trudged toward the tool shed, pointing out a nice flat area where they could stay while he shoveled.

He watched as they started to set up "forts" behind mounds of snow and began working at constructing their perfect snowballs. It was clear from Michonne's interactions that she was a mother and a good one at that. The snowball fight ended up being short lived and they ended up working on a very deformed looking snowman instead.

He would catch her watching him every now and again and she would quickly flit her eyes away, pretending to look at something else. He wondered if she was thinking about last night. He certainly was.

It was almost torturous to watch her, as she bent over to scoop up snow, her shapely figure on full display in her tight jeans. He had to continue his work in a semi-distracted manner.

After he was satisfied with his shoveling work, he moved on to the snow plow to get a path properly cleared for them. Once he was finished, he grabbed his shovel, heading toward the barn to tend to the animals he had procured so far. As he walked a flash of white zoomed past his face and he spun around only for another to connect with his chest and another with his shoulder.

Laughter erupted from Michonne and Carl when they saw his stunned face. "We got you Dad!" Carl abandoned his snowman, jogging towards where he stood, brushing the snow from his jacket and Michonne followed slowly after him, her arms wrapped around herself.

"Are you going to feed Buttons and milk the cows now?" Carl was practically bouncing with excitement, enjoying having someone to share the inner workings of their new life with. Carl's immediate taking to their new life pleased Rick quite a bit. He felt guilty at times for bringing the boy so far away from all he knew and he knew he struggled to make new friends. However, the one constant was his love for farm life.

"Yeah," he answered. "You wanna come along? You two done being snowbirds? I didn't take you for an avid snowman builder."

"I have to be. My son André absolutely loves the snow," she smiled, as she thought about the boy. "He's probably begging to go outside right now and driving my parents up a wall." She pointed to the front porch. "See those icicles over the front porch?" Rick and Carl looked at the icicles hanging from the rooftop. "Every time we visit my parents, he begs for us to lift him up so he can break a piece off for its magical powers. It's the best part of winter."

She noticeably shattered her teeth and wrapped her arms, even tighter around herself, pulling her brown coat closer to her body. "It's also freezing out here. I don't know where I got the bright idea to not to grab a proper coat when I left to go on this girl's trip."

"Girl's trip?" He realized that he had no idea where she was coming from when he found her.

"That's where I was coming from when you met me. A spa retreat cut short because of an idiotic misunderstanding."

Rick wanted to know more, but it probably wasn't something she would want to discuss in front of Carl. It seemed like a somewhat heavy subject.

"I keep an extra coat in the barn." He shrugged out of his jacket, holding it out to her. "Take this." He was much more layered than her and they weren't far from the barn.

"You don't have to do that Rick," she said, beginning to shake her head. "I'm fine. Really. It's just a little windy is all."

"It's only gonna get colder and there's a lot to do out here."

She gave him a soft smile, taking the coat from him. "Thanks."

Once they were in the barn she watched in fascination as he mucked out the stalls and supplied the animals with fresh hay and feed. Then he and Carl demonstrated how to groom the horse. It was obvious that she was a little out of her element and had probably never been in close proximity to cattle or ridden a horse outside of children's birthday parties, but she took it all in stride.

"This farming business is nothing to take lightly," she commented as she brushed Button's mane. "And you're getting _more_ animals? You're planning to do this all yourself? It seems like a lot for one person."

He nodded. "Expanding is the next logical step. I already have one part time farm hand and I'm looking into hiring another later down the line. One works for now."

"This is kind of therapeutic," she said, still brushing the horse's crest. "I might have to visit again."

"Have you ever ridden?" He would have loved to teach her.

"I have," Michonne said with a small nod. "My parents used to vacation at this co…this place where they had horses and the like, so I learned to ride. It was also a very common activity a kid's birthday parties when I was growing up."

"What do you want me to do next Cowboy? I'm an eager student at the moment, so take it while it lasts."

Rick glanced across the large barn at the cow stables. A mischievous smile spread across his face as he tried to imagine her response to what he would say next. "Have you ever milked a cow?"

Her smile turned into a slight grimace and she took a nervous step back. "No, and maybe I should just watch for now."

Rick threw his head, back laughing at her expression and soon she and Carl joined in. "Wee it's better than mucking out the stalls. I'll tell you that. Smells a lot better."

"It's easy Michonne," Carl said, pulling her in the opposite direction, towards where they kept the cattle. "I'll show you." She watched carefully as he slowly approached the cow.

"You have to go up to them slowly like this," Carl said in a low voice as he patted the side of the cow. "Then we have to clean them with warm water."

She watched as he washed the cow teats with warm water before demonstrating how to dry them off. He then demonstrated how the "strip" the teat and placed a bucket underneath to show her how to milk by hand. In the end, she managed to milk one of the cows on her own and did a very adorable victory dance after her accomplishment.

After leaving the barn, they spent the rest of the day indoors, playing some dusty board games that Rick didn't even know was in the house. They were remnants of the house's previous inhabitants. Michonne insisted that they had to play, as it was the ultimate snow day activity. He smiled, thinking of how long it had been since he was able to just be carefree as Michonne seemed to be. Little did he know; her carefree attitude would eventually extend to him and his developing household.

In the short hours he spent getting to know her, she revealed herself to be funny, light-hearted and had a unique perspective of life. She wasn't afraid to have fun or get in touch with her inner child. She wasn't someone who led a normal life and she lived just as she wanted, doing what made her happy. He also noticed that she spoke about her son often and the most arbitrary things reminded her of her little André.

As she sat tailor-style on the living room floor moving her game piece across the board, he couldn't help but stare longingly at her. They sat in the room where just hours before, with his body hovering over hers as they kissed. She had confirmed that the attraction between them was a shared one and he couldn't help but wonder what that would mean going forward.

Rick could certainly picture her, this woman he knew hardly anything about, as a permanent part of his home.

Her interactions with him, gave nothing away. He would catch her staring, but other than that it was as if the kiss never happened.

"Pay up," she said, holding out her hand, effectively breaking him out of his thoughts. "You owe me my two hundred dollars. I just passed 'Go'."

"Stop daydreaming Dad," Carl laughed, waving a few fake bills in front of his father's face. "He always does this and never manages to finish any games or movies. He's gonna start snoring soon Michonne."

"I'm not," he defended weakly. "I'm just trying to think of a sure way to beat you. I'm convinced Michonne is cheating."

She playfully rolled her eyes. "You can't cheat at monopoly Rick. I'm obviously just a master at this game. If anybody were to cheat it'd be you since you're the banker."

He narrowed his eyes in jest. "I'm keeping an eye on you."

"Good," she smiled. "Learn from the master."

* * *

It was another day before the snowfall had subsided enough for snow crews to finally begin treating the roads in their area. They never found themselves in another heated encounter as they did on her first night on the farm. Things remained simply friendly between them and he was beginning to believe that she viewed what happened between them a lot differently than he did.

"My car is apparently completely buried in snow," Michonne said, after hanging up with roadside assistance. "They've got it though."

Rick turned away from the living room window to face her. "I guess this means you're free to go home."

"Why are you saying that like it's a bad thing?" she laughed. "This isn't going to turn into a hostage situation, is it? My family and the roadside assistance guy know where I am, Rick. I won't work."

Rick shook his head, smiling at her joke. "I would be a smarter abductor than that."

"Thanks again for everything," she said, taking a step toward where he stood. "For stopping, for letting me stay, for teaching me how to milk a cow, for not straight up murdering me. Thanks for it all, Rick."

"Any time."

"So…will I be seeing you next week?" She looked up at him with her wide doe eyes, that flitted to his lips before meeting his own eyes. "Alexandria? Next Saturday?"

"I'll definitely be there."

Michonne took another step toward him, taking his hand in hers and slipping a piece of paper into it. He wrapped his hand around the piece of paper, but didn't look at it. His eyes remained on hers. "The address."

"Are you leaving now?" Carl's voice broke them out of their staring contest.

She stepped away from him, looking to Carl who stood at the bottom of the staircase with his arms crossed. "When my ride gets here in about twenty minutes or so." She glanced back at Rick. "I was just telling your Dad how glad I am that I got to meet the two of you. Thank you for your hospitality Carl. It's been a fun two days."

"It was fun for me too," he said. "Will you come back sometime?"

"I'm sure I'll be seeing the two of you again."

After she left, he berated himself for not asking for her phone number. He stared at the piece of paper with the name and address of an art gallery in Alexandria written in her neat handwriting. This was how he would see her again.

* * *

 **I hope you all enjoyed this. Review and let me know your thoughts? Are you still with me?**

 **I'm working on getting the next chapter out very soon.**


	3. Chapter Three: The Exhibition

A/N: _Here is the newest chapter. Sorry for the long wait, I've been very busy. Thanks for the wonderful responses to the last chapter. I really appreciated the kind words. Enjoy!_

* * *

 **Chapter Three: The Exhibition**

When he saw her again, she was standing in the center of an Alexandria art gallery with her head tipped back in laughter as a blonde woman and an older black gentleman with gray dreadlocks. Rick remained on the far side of the room, quietly observing her and feeling a little out of place. It was one of the main reasons why he decided to show up so close to the exhibition ending time.

As if she could sense his presence, her bright eyes drifted away from the man and the blonde and landed on him. A warm breathtaking smile overtook her face and she gestured for him to come over causing the woman and the man to look in his direction as well.

In the time since she left his home, she remained on his mind.

"Hey Rick! So good to see you." She leaned in and wrapped her arms around him in a friendly hug when he approached her, before quickly kissing him on the cheek. "This is the man I've been telling you about. Rick, this is my friend Andrea and my life mentor Ezekiel. He owns this art gallery and he has given me so much inspiration and encouragement so far."

"So, you're Michonne's midnight savior." Andrea eyed him with curiosity. "Thanks for taking care of my friend."

"I don't know what she was thinking, trying to drive home in a snow storm like that," Ezekiel said in an almost paternal tone. "She gave us a real scare."

They continued with light conversation for some time, until Andrea decided that there was someone she absolutely _had_ to say hello to and Ezekiel needed to be there to meet them as well. She didn't seem to be one for subtlety.

"So, you came." She was staring up at him with those dark penetrating orbs of hers.

"I said I would."

"And you're a man of your word." She said it as if it was a known fact.

He stuck his hand in his pocket, shifting somewhat uncomfortably as he glanced around the bright room. "This is all you?" he asked referring to the paintings and other works of art.

She nodded. "Everything in this section of the gallery, yes."

"You're really talented. These are beautiful." _Like you,_ he wanted to say.

"Michonne!" A woman with a short Afro approached them, a bright smile on her face. "You'll never guess who I just saw looking at one of your pieces. This is such –" She took notice of Rick standing next to Michonne, realizing that she had just interrupted a conversation. "Hello."

"Sasha, this is Rick. Rick, this is my cousin Sasha."

"Rick from the snow storm?"

He found himself feeling oddly pleased that his name had come up with so many people in Michonne's life. Surely it was a little more than just being thankful for the kindness of a stranger.

"The very one," Her lips, dark red with lipstick, curved into a demure smile. "You said who was here now?"

"Deanna Monroe." The name was familiar to Rick and the way Sasha said it made it sound as if it were a person of great prestige. "Maybe she heard about you through Aunty. You should go over and say hello."

"You're right, I definitely should." She gave Rick an apologetic smile. "So, Rick have a look around. We'll catch up after okay?"

"Oh sure," he waved her off. "I really wanted to take a closer look at some of these."

After she made her way toward an older professional woman, Rick took the opportunity to properly observe the pieces. He didn't know much about art, but he could see the talent and vision in the landscapes, objects and faces she painted. Occasionally, his eyes would search the room for her and would almost always connect with their target on the first try.

It was clear she knew how to work a room. She smiled a lot, spoke with her hands and got a few laughs as she caught up with old friends and acquaintances and discussed her pieces.

One piece that really stood out to him, was a vibrant painting of what appeared to be a young boy with his hands extended in the air. Only the back of the child was visible as he faced the other direction. He never imagined a painting with snow could be so colorful. It was filled with deep and light blues, greens and yellows.

Rick glanced down at the description, noting that the piece was named 'Snow Day.' He surmised that the child in question must have been her son Andre.

"This is my favorite one. I think it's the best thing I've ever painted." She stood next to him, appraising the portrait of the boy.

"I'm sure I've only seen a select few of your work, but this might be my favorite too."

"Something else we have in common," Michonne smiled, glancing behind herself. "We're closing up soon."

"You have to go," he guessed, glancing over at her. She was now wearing her coat, which meant she was leaving soon. "I'm sure your friends would want to take you out or something. I should head back."

Michonne shook her head. "This isn't my first art showing and it's certainly not the last. We had dinner beforehand. I'm actually just going to head home now. It's been a long day."

He nodded in understanding. "I'll walk you to your car."

"I actually took a taxi here," she stated, absently playing with the belt on her coat. "My car has been acting up since that snow storm. I wouldn't mind a ride though. I don't live too far from here. It's only like ten minutes away."

"Okay," he agreed, pleased at the prospect of spending more time with her.

"I mean, you don't have to…"

"I'd love to give you a ride." Somehow as the words left his lips, they came out sounding like an innuendo and images of her on his living room couch wrapped in his arms, filled his mind.

"Well lead the way to your carriage cowboy," she hooked her hand with his as they started toward the door. His eyes scanned the gallery which was almost empty, save for Ezekiel and two other women. The gray-haired man waved absently at them as they left.

"I'm loving the denim on denim by the way," she said, lightly brushing his color as the stepped out into the cool night. "Most people can't pull it off, but it looks good. Plus, it makes your eyes pop."

"Well it's a good thing you like it because this is probably as fashionable as I get these days," Rick laughed.

"I like it a lot."

Then something occurred to him. He had been meaning to ask ever since he left her downstairs on the night they first shared a kiss. "How did you know my last name by the way? You said it back at the house."

Michonne pressed her lips together, her eyes filled with mirth. "I might have snooped. Just a little." She held her index finger and thumb together. "I needed to know who I was dealing with and the stack was just lying by the telephone so I took a quick peak. I'm surprised it took you so long to notice. Weren't you a detective or something?"

"Sheriff."

"Sheriff Grimes." The words rolled from her lips like wine. "Turned Farmer Grimes."

"You should visit again sometime," Rick suggested, hoping he didn't sound at all desperate. "It's gonna look so different with spring right around the corner."

"I think I will," she mused. "I'd love to see Buttons the horse again. Carl too. Where is he tonight by the way?"

"He's at a sleepover," he sighed. "I'm just happy he's making friends."

"I'm happy to hear that too. He's a wonderful child." Her walking slowed to a stop and she turned to face him. "How far are you parked?"

Rick pointed to his parked truck a few paces away. On their drive to her apartment, they chatted about her work, the city and the weather. Once he parked outside her building she opened her satchel-like side bag, digging inside until she retrieved a pen and a piece of paper, quickly scribbling on it before handing it to him. "My number."

"Every time you leave me, I get something?"

"Well we don't have to part ways yet." She grinned up at him as she closed her bag. "The night's still young. Would you like to come up?"

"For someone who was afraid that I might be a murderous psychopath, you sure are trusting now."

"Is that so?" she laughed. "Well, I'll have you know that I'm an excellent judge of character, Rick. I hope you are too."

He found himself following her into her apartment building without too much further objection. He wasn't going to let an opportunity of spending more time with her pass him by. Her apartment truly reflected what he imagined the home of an artist to be. Just by looking around the apartment, he could tell Michonne, like her name, was an unconventional woman. It was filled with dark and bright colors; the walls were adorned with patterned tapestry, there was a multitude of plants, drawers and bookshelves and her artwork had a heavy presence.

She kicked off her shoes as she entered and he did the same. A little ball of black fur dashed from somewhere around the corner and began bouncing at their feet. "Snoopy!"

Michonne bent over and scooped up the small furry dog into her arms, patting him as he panted happily.

"So, this is your dog." He reached over to pet him. "Carl has been begging for a house pet for the longest time. A dog wouldn't be so bad considering."

"As I've told him, they're the best." She looked back at him giving him a small wink. "Would you like something to drink? I'm going to have a glass of wine." Her skirt, colored with oranges and yellows, wafted behind her as she walked barefooted across the floor, covered in patterned rugs, towards the kitchen.

"This is nice," he commented, looking around the softly lit room. "I'm fine by the way. I'm driving."

She smiled knowingly. "Andrea calls this aesthetic bohemian chic. I call it comfortable and relaxing. It's home."

Rick took a seat on the low couch admiring a small nearby statue with water flowing from it. "I agree with you on that one."

"Most of the furniture here are old things I remodeled and added my personal touch to. Sentimental value and all that."

"It's very nice. You have a talent. I can barely match my clothes." He looked around the quiet apartment as she continued rummaging through the kitchen. "Where is your son tonight?"

"With his father," she answered. "Today is Smithsonian museum day, so they went to new African-American history and culture in DC. I try to take him to one museum every Saturday. You and Carl should join us sometime. Want some coffee?"

"That would be great." He stood up from the couch, slowly circling around the apartment, admiring her designs. "And Carl and I might take you up on that offer."

"He's loves it." A bright smile spread across her face. "His favorite is the air and space museum though. I think I might have a little scientist on my hands."

"He's four, right?"

"Yep. Four going on forty. I think he just like the pretty displays. I mean he practically lives in a museum of my childhood and spends way too much time in art galleries."

"Not a bad place to live and spend time in from what I see. They grow up so fast though. I get a little sad every time Carl gets older or even grows a little."

"I don't miss the incessant crying, but I do miss having little infant André in my arms." She stepped out of the kitchen with a tray with two mugs and a platter in the center. "I want to show you something, Rick."

He turned to her, his brow furrowed. Her bright eyes, glimmered in the low light, but her expression gave nothing away. "O...kay. Is that a good or a bad thing?"

Michonne tilted her head toward a glass door, covered in colorful knickknacks that probably led to a patio. "Open it please. Grab your shoes and open it."

"Demanding, aren't we?" He laughed, walking toward the door. "This isn't part of your master plan to kidnap me and harvest my organs, is it? I've gotta be honest, you're making me suspicious. Is this your kill room or something," he joked as he pushed the door open.

What he saw in front of him left him even more awestruck than the inside of her apartment. He stepped out onto the sizeable enclosed balcony. "Is this where you paint?" he asked noticing an easel.

It was a little chilly, but he was still wearing his coat. He watched as she walked and placed the tray down on a small table in front of a low sitting couch. "Sometimes. I've converted the loft, which was supposed to be like a small home office, into my little studio, I paint there and sometimes out here as well."

"Is this where we're sitting."

"Space heaters and a fire pit," she said, as she whirled around making her preparations. "This is worth it, trust me. I hate the idea of not being able to enjoy my patio because of something insignificant as the cold." She pointed to the mesh covering that covered the openings on the balcony. "I added the mesh covering so it doesn't get too messy or unbearable cold during the winter. It's a good thing that's almost over."

"You are…" He shook his head. "You are one of kind Michonne."

"I'll take that as a compliment." She scurried behind a wooden and pulled out a portable fire pit. "We're technically not allowed to have fire pits on our patio, but who's gonna know? It's fun to take risks every once in a while. Plus, I can always play dumb if they catch me."

She looked up at him with wide eyes, placing a hand against her chest as she demonstrated her acting skills. "I can't have one? I don't remember seeing that in the official rules. I'm so sorry," she dramatized, with a laugh.

"You're a rebel too?" he teased. "Good to know."

"Not a very good one though. I'm big on respecting rules but that one is just not going to work for me. What's the point of a patio in Virginia is you can't have a fire pit?" Michonne questioned, as she lit the fire with a handheld butane lighter. "In this case, rules can be thrown out the window."

"Don't forget I was a sheriff."

" _Was_ is the key word here. Besides, I'm sure we can keep this between the two of us. Plus you're now an accessory," she winked. "Come on." She rose to her feet, grabbing his hand and pulling him toward the couch. "Sit. Sit."

She handed him a mug. "Your coffee." She picked up the other. "My tea. I didn't want to drink alone."

"It's actually really nice out here."

"It's good to enjoy the little this in life Rick," she said in a low voice. "That's one of the most important things I've been learning so far and it seems to me that you are learning the same. I think you moved all the way out to the middle of nowhere because you were searching for something."

"Well I kind of lived in the middle of nowhere when I was in Georgia too. I came from a _really_ small town."

"What you have now is a different kind of 'middle of nowhere', isn't it? Did you live somewhere like that in Georgia?"

"Are you positive you're not a psychiatrist?" he asked, half joking. "It's startin' to feel like you brought me here to psychoanalyze me. Now I'm suspicious again. It's those detective senses."

"I brought you here to share one of my favorite places with you. You shared so much with me and I wanted to do the same with you," Michonne said simply. "Plus, I really enjoy the company. Regardless of if you were here or not, I'd be sitting out here sipping tea and enjoying life. This is how I spend my evenings. Clearing up after it snows is a bitch though, because it leaks when it melts against the covering."

"I can imagine. Does it have to be mesh?"

"Fresh air." She grabbed a nearby blanket spreading it across their lap. "Are you cold?" Her foot brushed against his thigh as she pulled her knees to her chest. "I am."

Cold was the last thing Rick was feeling despite where they were sitting. "Fine."

"Growing up, I hated the cold," she said, staring ahead at nothing in particular. "I always said I'd move someplace warm once I grew up and left my parents' house and I'd never come back to this part of the country. Now, here I am. I've learned to love it."

"You grew up around here?" His brow furrowed as he thought back to their conversation on the first night. "I thought you said you were from further down south and new to Virginia."

A smile spread across Michonne's face at his recollection. "Yes, I _am_ originally from the south and I _am_ new to Virginia. I spent half my childhood in Georgia before moving to Bethesda with my family. That's where I spent years being tortured by the cold. Then I moved away for college, met a guy, started to semi-settle down, but then I moved back to the northeast. Virginia this time. My parents still live in Bethesda."

"Interesting."

"We're actually sitting here playing twenty questions. At least now we can say we know each other a lot better."

"You still have an advantage. You know my last name and I don't even know yours. The gallery flyers only listed you as Michonne."

She reached for her mug taking a small sip. "You haven't been asking the right questions then. Are you sure you were a cop? I'll give you a freebie though. The answer to that question is, I'm like Cher. One name only." She scooted closer to him, placing the mug down on the small table in a swift movement as she angled her body toward him. "What else do you want to know Rick?"

Rick stared into her dark shimmering eyes, that always seemed to entice him. He couldn't help but wonder where this would all lead him. What will this woman be to him? Who was she now?

He leaned closer to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulder and pulling her against his side. She settled next to him, not at all bothered by their close proximity. It felt natural. She peered up at him, under her dark lashes, her eyes moving from his eyes to his lips. She almost seemed bashful, which was a complete contradiction to her earlier verbal banter.

He reached out, cupping his hand against her cheek. "If I can kiss you." He drew her face to his as a small smile of affirmation played on her lips. She closed her eyes as their lips met in a soft kiss that sent fire coursing through his body.

There was passion there and years later he would find, much to his pleasure, that the passion would remain and even grow.

The kiss grew deeper and soon, Rick found himself pulling Michonne into his lap where she straddled his thighs as his hands explored her fully clothed body. He loved the way her body felt against his. She felt right.

"Glad to know the attraction is still there," she breathed, pulling away from the kiss.

"I would have thought differently with how platonic you kept everything." His hand slipped under the back of her shirt, to rest against her bare lower back.

Her eyes flitted away from his. "I don't really do things like that. I mean, you were a stranger and I barely knew you. I still barely know you. I just wanted to play things…safe. Plus, I didn't want to be to forward or anything and make things awkward."

"I guess great minds really do think alike." Rick gave her a light squeeze. "Well since we _still_ technically barely know each other, I think we really should fix that."

Michonne grinned, tilting her head to the side as if to properly observe him. "How do you propose we do that?"

He kissed her again. "I'll think of something, but for now tell me more. How long have you been an artist? Why here?"

She slid off his lap, to sit sideways across the couch and kept her legs in his lap. "You better get comfortable Sherriff."

They spent the rest of their evening talking and flirting and it was after one in the morning when he finally bid her goodnight. He hated that he had to leave, but the drive would take some time and he didn't want to be too tired on the road.

She followed him to the door, her arms wrapped around herself for warmth. The little black ball of fur made its reappearance then, sitting next to her feet and wagging his tail happily.

"You free next Friday?" he asked from the doorway as he adjusted his coat.

"Yeah," she answered, scooping up the little dog into her arms. "My schedule is mostly free for the next few weeks actually. Why? Are you asking me out Rick?"

"Yes," he said simply. He reached out, lifted her chin, drawing he face to his. He placed another kiss on her soft lips. "Yes I am. Goodnight Michonne."

"Night," she whispered as he rested his forehead against hers. "Friday?"

"Friday. For now." He let go of her, stepping out of the apartment to make his way down the hallway.

"Hey Rick?" she called, as he hit the button for the elevator. She was still standing in her apartment doorway, with the small dog in her arms, watching him and she looked absolutely radiant.

"Yeah?"

"It's Westbrook."

Her voice was in his head during the entire ride home. He pictured her smile, her laugh, her body pressed against his. She occupied every part of his mind and later that night he was left thinking, ' _Where have I heard that name before?'_

* * *

 **What do you think? Let me know in the reviws.**


	4. Chapter Four: The Play Date

_A/N: Here is the newest chapter of 'The Farmer's Wife'. I hope you all enjoy it. I wish I could have gotten this out faster, but summer courses takes priority._

* * *

 **Chapter Four: The Play Date**

Rick did not see her that Friday. After three days of phone conversations, she called him, somewhat frantically and apologized profusely for not being able to make their date. There was an emergency and she would be needed elsewhere that Friday. She insisted that they meet up again on the following Saturday or Sunday, depending on how the emergency was resolved.

"What are you over there thinking about?" his sister-in-law asked, from her place at the kitchen counter.

Rick glanced up from his phone, rubbing his hand across his face. "It's nothing." He strolled over to the counter, pouring himself another cup of coffee. "I'm gonna go work on that door in the barn. You okay here?"

"Fine," she answered, staring at him as if she was waiting for a sign of bizarre behavior. "How are things going by the way? Still settling in?"

"Yeah, Carl made a few friends from his new school. I think he's starting to like it here," he answered simply.

"And you?"

He shrugged, curious about her line of questioning. "Fine, Carol."

"Remember, if this don't work, Maryland's not too far away. Nobody's gonna judge you if you don't finish whatever this is that you're trying to do. I don't know why you decided to move all the way up here. Even I'm thinking about moving back to Georgia. I just need to convince that husband of mine." She pulled out a mixing bowl, preparing to make one of her delicious concoctions. "And you don't even have to do all this. You'll get what he left you either way."

Carol and Lori shared no biological relation. Lori's parents had adopted her during her early teens, when she had a troubled life at home, and she grew to be a fiercely protective older sister to Lori.

"Hey aunty Carol," Carl said as he shot through the kitchen, almost knocking over a chair in his haste.

"Look at you," she said, ruffling his hair. "I swear you get taller every time I see you. Sophia's that way too."

"Apparently, I'm a growing boy," he shrugged, turning his attention to his father. "When is Michonne gonna come over?"

Rick, rubbed the back of his neck, hyperaware of how Carol's eyes followed him, observing him carefully. "Ah, no. Not today. I forgot to tell you yesterday, but we have a change of plans. How about you grab a bite and get your boots on and we can work on that door in the barn together."

"Who's Mich – what was that?" Her eyes darted between Carl and Rick.

"A friend of mine." Rick certainly did not want to have this conversation with Carol at the moment. They always had a strange relationship even before what happened with Lori. During his turbulent relationship with his ex-wife, her sister, he always had the feeling that she was not particularly fond of him, which was why her not taking sides in the Lori incident surprised him. Either way, Lori was still her sister and he knew, despite her disapproval of Lori's actions, she held a strong position when it came to how he treated Lori. In fact, he was convinced that the only reason she still visited was to make sure her nephew was receiving what she deemed as proper care.

"So, she's been round here a lot?" She kept her tone light as she smiled over at Carl.

Rick took a sip of his coffee fighting the urge to roll his eyes. "She's been here once. It's pretty new, our…friendship."

"We met her on the road during the snowstorm," Carl volunteered, walking over to the cupboard to grab a bowl for his cereal. "She's really nice."

"On the road," she repeated, regarding Rick with curious eyes. Her expression remained neutral and he wondered what she was thinking. "That's so…nice."

"Yeah, her car was broken down so we helped. She stayed with us for two days. She's so cool." He opened the pantry door in search of his cereal. "Dad I'm almost out of Honey Bunches of Oats."

"We'll pick some up in town later." He hastily gulped the rest of his coffee, desperate to get out of the house.

"I'll be out of your hair soon Rick." She said it as if she could read his mind and he immediately felt guilty, wondering if his demeanor was cold. "I'll be in town for a while. I'm staying over with Nancy tonight. She hates being in that big 'ol house by herself and I hate making that long drive so late. Her kids are away and her husband is pulling a double. Some senator or congress person had a heart attack a few days ago or something. I don't know."

"Tell her I said hello." He placed his mug in the sink and quickly made his way out of the kitchen. "I'll be outside."

Rick spent some time working on the barn door before finally moving on to check that everything was secured with the stables. As he gathered more tools from his toolbox, he felt his phone buzzing in his pocket. He was happy to see the name flashing on the screen. "Hello?"

" _Hey Rick."_

"Michonne." He loved the sound of her voice and it was even better over the phone. "Hey."

"Yeah," she sighed heavily. "Sorry about blowing you off today. Family emergency."

"Everything alright?"

" _It will be. Things are much better now,"_ She answered. " _How about you? How are you spending this lovely Friday afternoon?"_

"I'm handyman for the day. I'm fixing up a few things in the barn."

" _Wow."_ She let out a melodic laugh. " _That sounds a little sexy."_

"Well it's what I do," he responded. "And what are you up to. We have to make up for today."

" _Well I'm with my family in Bethesda at the moment, but I'll be back home tomorrow,"_ she started. _"How about you come over? Bring Carl. I'm sure he'd love to meet Snoopy. Unless you had other plans, of course,"_ she quickly clarified. " _I don't want this to come across as me – "_

"We'll be there Michonne."

" _Great. Lunch time then?"_

"Sounds good." He closed the tool box, leaning back against the wall. "I'm going to have to show off my breakfast making skills some other time then."

" _Another time,"_ she laughed. _"Looking forward to it though. Just bring yourself and Carl tomorrow."_

"See you."

" _Bye."_

Rick returned to his work in higher spirits and by the time he was finished with his daily farm work, he was exhausted. He couldn't imagine what things would be like once they were fully into spring. He reentered the house collapsing on the living room couch. He wasn't sure how long he dozed off for before he was awoken by Carl's voice.

"Dad?" His voice sounded so small, almost fearful.

Rick's eyes blinked open. "Yeah son?" he said groggily sitting up from the couch.

Carl let out a visible sigh. "Oh I…I thought…nothing."

"What's up?"

"Aunt Carol made lunch. I already had some. She's leaving soon, so she wanted to know if she should fix you a plate."

He shook his head, waving his hand. "I can get it when I'm ready." He regarded his son carefully. "You never joined me in the barn."

Carl shrugged, sitting down next to his father. "I decided to keep aunty company instead." He shot a cheesy grin at his father. "Missed me?"

"Always." He ruffled the boy's hair. "That was thoughtful of you though."

"Plus, I can help out tomorrow."

"No, we're getting out of here tomorrow. We'll have a day out."

"Where are we going?"

Rick made the motion of locking his mouth and throwing away the key. "It's a surprise."

Carl rolled his eyes standing from the couch. "Sure dad. You've never been able to keep surprises a secret anyway."

 **~TFW~**

On their way to Michonne's apartment the next afternoon, Carl was still determined to find out where they were going before they actually arrived. He would shoot out guesses at Rick and when informed that he was wrong, he would return to his game, pretending not to be bothered by not knowing.

"Come on Dad, just tell me. Where are we going?" Carl asked, looking up from his game to stare out the window.

"You'll see."

"Washington DC?"

"No. You'll see."

"Just tell me. I'll still act surprised when we get there if that's what you want."

"Where's the fun in that?" Rick teased.

"Are we going to visit aunty and uncle?"

"Nope."

When he pulled into the parking lot in front of Michonne's building Carl regarded his surroundings with curiosity. "Where are we? Are we visiting somebody? And why do we need ice?"

Rick opened his door, stepping out of the truck. "You wanna see or not?" Carl quickly scurried out after him, anxious to know what his father was keeping from him.

"Alright, let's see."

On their way up to Michonne's floor, Carl continued to throw out guesses as to where they were headed, but he never came close. He followed his father down the spacious hallway and watched, almost bouncing on his feet, as he knocked and waited.

When the door swung open, the sight before him was just as radiant as he remembered. "You made it!" As they entered her apartment, she gave Rick a quick hug before exchanging one with Carl. "Good to see you again Carl."

"This looks really cool," Carl said, looking around the room.

A little boy resembling Michonne stood up from his place on the living room floor where he seemed to have been busy with toys. "Hi," he waved at the new house guests.

"Hello," Rick waved back. "Your son?"

"Yeah. André's dad had a thing so he's spending Saturday with me." She explained to Rick as she waved the boy over. "André come meet my friend and his son Carl."

"I'm André! I'm four years old." He held up four fingers with a proud grin.

Michonne smiled indulgently at him, strolling into the kitchen. "Thanks for joining me and André for lunch today. I hope you're hungry."

"Starving," Carl sighed, plopping down on the couch next to André.

"You act like I don't feed you."

"Well you haven't fed me since breakfast. I'm a growing boy."

Rick shook his head, following Michonne into the kitchen where they would be partially out of sight from the children who were now chatting. Her back was to him as she removed something from the oven. He placed the bag of ice, she requested he pick up on the counter and stood back, watching her. "How are you?"

She placed the dish on the counter, turning to face him a demure smile on her lips. "Good. You?"

"Well," he took a step toward her, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her towards him and out of view from the children. "I missed kissing you."

Their lips connected in a slow sensual kiss and he appreciated how right she felt in his arms and from the stirring in his pants his own body appreciated hers too. "I missed that too," she said when they finally pulled away. "I'm sure there'll be plenty of time for that though. Come on." She tugged on his hand. "Help me finish this so we can feed your boy."

"That kid has a bottomless pit for a stomach," he laughed, as she handed him a knife and shot out some instructions on what she wanted.

Twenty minutes later they were carrying dishes to the living room together. "I see you've met Snoopy," Michonne said as they reentered to find Carl and André playing with the black fur ball. "Go wash your hands for lunch."

Michonne pushed a low vintage looking wooden table into the center of the room while Rick placed the bowls down. "André and I don't usually use the dining table over there. Besides, this is way more comfortable."

André returned and grabbed a throw pillow and moved down to the rug where he sat cross legged and Carl followed suit. Michonne took a seat on the couch across from him and Rick moved to sit beside her. "Lunch is served," he said, passing empty plates from the stack around.

"Dig in." Michonne scooped food onto André's plate making sure to cut his meat into small pieces for him.

"This is so good Michonne," Carl said through a mouthful of food.

"Thanks, but you should actually thank your Dad for that one too. He added most of the finishing touches."

"Can you pour me some water please Mama?"

"Sure baby."

They talked about their week over lunch and Carl was happy to share his news about his new friends that he made and how much more he was beginning to like living in Virginia. André gave the room pause, when he shared some news of his own. "My grandpa was sick, but he's all better now. Me and mamma gave him lots of kisses and love and he's not sad anymore."

"That was the family emergency," she explained to Rick. Then she mouthed, _"later."_ He understood that she would explain later. "But grandpa is doing well and he's home now. He'll be back to work in two weeks." She didn't sound happy about that.

"What does he do?" Carl asked.

"He's a…politician. He works in Washington D.C. in the Capitol. You've been to D.C., right?"

Carl shook his head. "Not yet."

"Rick!" She nudged his arm, wearing a shocked expression. "Are you kidding? You've got to take him to see the capital of the country."

"Yeah Dad," Carl added with a playful smirk. "There's gonna be a school trip to D.C. soon though. It's more toward the end of the school year, so I'll see it."

"Well thank goodness for school," she teased, playfully pinching Rick. "Come on Mr. Grimes."

"I'm all dome Mama," André announced. "I have dessert now?"

"Yes, you can baby. I'm actually finished too." She stood up grabbing her empty plate and stacking André's on top. "All done Carl? Rick?"

"Yes, this was amazing. Thank you Michonne." Rick stood up as well, helping her clear the table.

"Wait until you see what we're having or dessert. It's your favorite André."

"Ice cream!" he shouted triumphantly.

"No, your other favorite."

He furrowed his brow, as he tried to think of what his favorite dessert was supposed to be. "Cookies?"

"Chocolate cake."

"Oh yeah." He giggled, clapping his hands. In the short time since Rick had met him, there was constant laughter and joy emanating from the little boy.

"Rick, I'll need your help dishing out dessert."

He followed after her with empty plates and leftover food from the table. As soon as they were in the kitchen, she turned to lock her lips with his. "I'll never get tired of that."

"Good. You better not, because it's becoming my favorite pastime. I'll be very disappointed if you did." He placed a hand on the small of her back, holding her against his body. "You should stop by the farm during the week. Carl will be at school."

"So, we'll be all alone," she finished for him, a mischievous glint in her eye. "I like the way you think."

"Hmm. That too." His lips reconnected with hers and he fought the urge to lift her onto the counter and take things even further. When they pulled away, she stared up at him with her big doe eyes, a smile playing on her lips. He brushed his thumb against her soft cheek. "Are you sure you're doing okay though? With your father and everything that happened?"

Michonne sucked her cheeks in, breaking eye contact. "I'm fine. There were no complications with his heart attack and he didn't need surgery or anything. They just kept him for three days. He's overworked himself and he wasn't eating as well as he should."

"I'm sorry."

She smiled despondently. "My Dad's a fighter. He'll be fine." She stepped out of his embrace, turning to face the kitchen counter effectively ending that line of conversation. "Let's get this cake ready or else André won't be a happy camper. Can you grab me some small plates, please?"

"Politician's daughter though. I would have never guessed." He handed her a plate and she scooped on a generous slice of cake.

The way her hand paused midway through slicing another piece of cake before she responded to him in a light playful tone didn't elude him. "What can I say? I'm full of surprises."

They served the children their dessert and while they dug in to their delicious treat, Rick and Michonne slipped out to the patio, keeping the door open to keep an ear out for the kids. She wrapped her arms around herself and stared silently down at the city below.

"So, Sheriff. Do you think we might be on our way to officially dating then?" She kept her voice low as she finally turned around to face him. "Even though we haven't technically had an actual date yet."

"Well I'm not dating anyone and I hope you're not." He took a step towards her. "I'd say we already are."

"No, no…" She shook her head. "I wouldn't have been kissing up on you if I was."

"Good." He stepped even closer to her, tilting her chin upwards so he could meet her eyes. "About that date though. I still have to make up for the one we missed."

The sound of the doorbell ringing interrupted her as she opened her mouth to respond. Her brow furrowed in confusion. "Who the hell would be here on…" She let her sentence trail of as she stepped away from him to reenter apartment.

He followed slowly after her passing André and Carl where they left them eating their dessert. "How's it coming?"

"I could eat this forever. I don't need any other food," Carl said through a mouthful of cake. "We've got to take some of this home with us."

Rick chuckled. "Well cake isn't food. It's dessert."

"Mama says cake is only for big kids. Big kids eat all their real food and eat cake after," André explained, looking up at Rick as if waiting for him to back him up.

"What are you doing here?" Rick hadn't been paying attention when Michonne opened the door, but her tone and demeanor gave him pause and reminded him that there was now a visitor at the door.

"What do you mean? I can't stop by to see my son?" A deep male voice responded and Rick found himself moving almost instinctively towards where Michonne stood. He stopped a few paces behind her, enough for him to see the person at the door.

The sharply dressed tall, dark-skinned man's eyes drifted from Michonne and connected with Rick's. "Oh, you have a guest?"

"Guests," she corrected.

He raised his eyebrows, eyeing Rick from over her shoulder. "You hosting some of your art friends or something?"

"I'm not," she answered shortly. "Is there a reason for you being here Michael? I thought you had some business in Massachusetts to attend to? Did it get called off? Are you here to take André?"

"Uh…no it didn't," Michael crossed his arms and still seemed to be trying to decipher what was going on in the other room. "I thought I'd talk to you, but I didn't think you'd have _guests_. You gonna let me in or not?"

Michonne sighed dejectedly before stepping aside to allow him to enter the apartment. "Please call next time Michael. I'm not okay with you just showing up unannounced."

"Daddy!" André stood up, running towards his father while Michonne shot Rick an apologetic look that left him perplexed.

"Hey little man." Michael lifted André into his arms as he took in the occupants of the room. He took a step toward Rick, holding out his hand. "I'm Michael. Michonne's ex fiancé."

He shook Michael's hand as he tried to keep his expression even. "Rick Grimes."

Michael glanced at Carl, who was polishing off the last of his cake. "Play date?" he asked referring to the considerably older boy. He had an arrogance to him that Rick didn't particularly like. He circled the small area by the door slowly as he furtively surveyed the room.

Michonne ignored his prying question, asking one of her own. "What was it that you wanted again?" She tried to keep her tone light, her annoyance was clear. Rick strolled away from them, rejoining Carl where he was seated.

"I can't say bye to my kid?"

She folded her arms across her chest as if to avoid drawing attention to her clenching hands. "I never said that."

"Can you talk? We could go in the other room," he said glancing pointedly at Rick. "There's something you should know."

"Actually, can it wait? I do have _guests_. Is it something urgent?"

"It can wait. We'll talk when I get back from this trip." He quickly glanced at his watch. "Well I just wanted to say bye to my little man." He peppered kisses on André's forehead as the boy giggled happily. "Oh, and I spoke to Winnie. Glad to hear everything is okay. Heart attacks are scary. I know that must have been tough for you since you guys are so close."

"It was." Her tone somewhat softer. "Thanks Michael."

"Well I should head out then." He put André down, adjusting his suit jacket and checking his watch again. It almost seemed like a nervous habit. "I've got to head back to D.C. for my flight."

"So nice of you to drive all the way from D.C. just to tell André bye. That's so thoughtful of you _Mike_." Michonne wore a wide smile on her face, but her eyes said otherwise. It was clear that he stopped by for reasons beyond saying goodbye.

Over time, Rick would be able to decipher all the thoughts and emotions that she had grown to hide so well. Her evasiveness would be one of their rare points of contention.

"Isn't it?" Michael returned with an equally sarcastic tone. "It's a short drive though, so there's no " _all_ " in that way. See you next week. We'll talk when I get back since you have company now. Bye little man."

André waved at his father, making his way back to his spot next to Carl. "Bye Daddy."

"Nice meeting you _Rich_ ," Michael called to Rick. "I'll leave you guys to your playdate. Sorry if I interrupted."

"Likewise," Rick answered dryly, ignoring Michael's seemingly deliberate use of an incorrect name. He watched as Michonne walked him to the door, shutting it behind him and letting out a long exhale. She remained facing the door for some time. He imagined her eyes were probably shut as she tried to regain her composure.

When she finally turned back to face the room, she wore a smile on her face but there was a dullness behind her eyes.

"You two enjoyed your dessert," she sang, addressing the two boys. She was determined to return to her high spirits and it was working. Instead of the rigid posture she wore seconds ago, she was now light and happy again.

"It was yummy mama."

She placed a loud kiss on his forehead, causing him to giggle and pull away slightly. "Thanks sweetheart."

"Yeah," Carl agreed. "Thanks, Michonne."

"I'm glad you liked it. You guys had fun so far today?"

"Yep. And we're definitely getting a dog, but bigger." Carl declared, looking at his father to let him know he was serious about the dog. "I want a Rottweiler."

"I hear you, son."

"Good." Carl twisted his mouth as if in deep thought. "You're an artist, right?"

"Mommy makes pretty pictures with her paint."

Carl perked up. "Can we see?"

"Yeah." Rick locked eyes with her. "Let's see."

"I would be a terrible host if I deny you." She pointed to the stairs leading up to the loft. "Come on. It's up here. Not many people get to see my lair." She winked at Rick as she started ascending the stairs. "Only those I really like."

* * *

 **Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think.**


	5. Chapter Five: The Second Date

**A/N:** Thanks for all the amazing responses to the last chapter. I hope you also enjoy this experience, I can say cooking dates are quite fun (especially for first dates since it'll reveal a lot about compatibility) and it's pretty popular now.

Enjoy!

* * *

 **Chapter Five: The Second Date**

She was becoming one of Rick's favorite parts of his new life. After their lunch date with their children, they continued seeing each other regularly and the more time they spent together, the less they had company. Their first date came and went and their relationship began to progress at a comfortable pace.

"Do you think this counts as a long-distance relationship?" Michonne asked, late one Saturday afternoon while they were lounging in her living room sans children. Her leg was thrown over his waist and his hand rested firmly on her rear as they faced each other. Rick ended up arriving more than an hour early for their date and she was more than happy to have the extra time with him. They both enjoyed spending some quiet time in each other's company, just being.

And they were completely alone.

André was spending the weekend with his father and Carl was away with his aunt and uncle to celebrate his uncle's birthday.

"I'm too far away for you?"

"Well you did drive forty-five minutes to get here. That sounds like a pretty long distance to me." She moved her middle and index finger in a crawling motion up his chest before tapping his nose.

She closed her eyes, humming softly to the soft music emanating from her iPod docking station. She told him it was her working music. It was meant to stir her creativity and put her in the mood for working on her art. She had been up in her loft painting when he arrived and she moved the music from up there to the living room. Perhaps she had some other type of creativity stirring that did not involve art.

"What exactly do you do during the week?" Although they saw each other often, he often wondered what she did with her time. He wasn't sure about the type of schedule an artist would have. He tried to imagine her typical weekday. He could see her visiting galleries. Maybe she she spent most of her time painting? Attending wine tastings? What does Michonne Westbrook actually do?

She grinned, biting her lip before answering in a conspiratorial whisper. "It's a secret."

"Come on." He tickled her side causing her to laugh and squirm away from his hand. Every time they saw each other, he was a little shocked that she made time to spend with him. "I know you spend a lot of time on your art. What else?"

"I told you before that I'm a wedding planner," she said, playfully pulling his ear. "That's mainly what I do, but I'm on a break from that for a while. Call it a mini vacation. I have no other secret occupation besides those two."

Michonne's phone buzzed and she twisted in his arms to grab it from the coffee table. She glanced at the text message on the screen before letting out an annoyed groan and typing out a quick response.

"Everything alright?"

"Fine," she said absently as she sat up into a sitting position. "It's just Michael. It's always something. Sometimes I'm just glad some things are in the past."

"Right. He's something," he grunted, tightening his arm around her waist. She shifted in his arms attempting to leave the couch. "Where're you going?"

"We're supposed to be going out tonight," she reminded him as if he had forgotten. "I need to get ready."

He tugged at the edge of her shirt, his hand slipping under the fabric to rest on her lower back. Her slight shiver in response brought a smile of satisfaction to his face, knowing that he had an effect on her. "I thought you were already ready."

She glanced down at what she was wearing giving him a look. "I'm not going to wear this top, Rick. I don't even have a bra on."

"Well…don't." He gave her a suggestive grin, causing her melodic laugh to escape her lips, her brief, but tense communication with Michael seemingly forgotten.

"Before the second date?" she asked in a sultry whisper as she leaned in to kiss him slowly. He groaned, her effect on him apparent by the stirring in his pants.

"You're right." He rubbed her lower back when she pulled away. "That's for right after the second date. Hurry up and change."

Michonne stood up, his hand sliding down her back to briefly rest on her ass as she moved. "I'll be back in a minute." He watched as she sauntered toward the hallway leading to her bedroom. As she reached the edge of the hall, she surprised him, by lifting her shirt over her head and slowly removing it with her back still facing him.

She didn't need to turn around to know that he was staring at her naked, braless back, slack jawed. "Maybe after," she said loud enough for him to hear, before continuing on her way.

Rick sat up leaning his head back against the couch with an audible groan. "Now she's just trying to kill me," he mumbled to himself as he adjusted his pants. Their physical relationship wasn't beyond heavy kissing and partial nudity as of yet.

When she reemerged from her bedroom, her outfit had changed entirely, but she still remained somewhat casually dressed, Rick supposed. "I'm ready Sherriff. We don't want to be late."

"Right." It was their second official date and this particular venue was a suggestion from her friend Ezekiel King. It was his newest business venture and he wanted them to experience it while it was still a 'novelty', as he called it. "I'm ready to learn how to cook like a world class chef. Carl will be proud."

"Don't worry you'll love it," she said, grinning up at him. "It's a great date idea and I think you need a taste of all that the city has to offer."

Once they were in his truck, Michonne gave him directions to Ezekiel's newest business venture which would host cooking date nights every other weekend. The venue had not been officially opened to the public yet and mainly hosted private events until the grand opening. For the time being, Ezekiel wanted his closest friends to visit while the business got established and ideas developed. It was a change from their previous date when he had already taken her out to dinner in Alexandria. "Okay so Ezekiel said this is going to be sort of casual but fun. Plus, chef Morgan is an amazing Chef."

He took one of her hands in his as he continued to drive. "You're pretty good at cooking yourself. Amazing actually."

"Not as good as Morgan. He's world class and was trained in freaking Paris. He knows his shit," she said as she glanced down at the direction on her phone and peered out the window. "It's on the next right."

Once they arrived at their destination, he parked in the packed parking lot and they got out of the truck. "So, besides owning an art gallery and restaurants, does this Ezekiel do anything else exciting?"

"He's a bit eccentric." She wore an amused expression as they strolled across the lot to the place with 'Ezekiel's Table' written in glowing bright neon letters. "He's actually just "adopted" a tiger you know."

"How the hell do you adopt a tiger?"

"Well the tiger isn't technically adopted in the sense that he has it at home. It's more of a symbolic adoption and she still lives in a zoo. It's something anyone can do. Her name's Shiva and I will be painting her," she said proudly. "He has had the tiger at his home though, before she was moved to the zoo. He knows a guy. But if he could keep the tiger permanently in his home, he would. Believe me."

"That's crazy, but he seems like a good guy."

"He is. You don't meet too many Ezekiel's in this world. We've known each other for years now and I can honestly say he's one of the greatest people I've ever met and the best mentor and friend I could ever hope to have."

"And you deserve that. It makes sense for you to have good people around you. You have that goodness in you too."

She smiled, looking away from him. "You always say that. You don't know that. You barely –"

"Know you?" He cut her off before she could continue the sentence he's heard too many times in their weeks together. He wrapped an arm around her waist as they approached the entrance. "Isn't that what we've been doing? Or am I missing somethin' here?"

She was a beautiful woman with a wonderful sense of humor and he could honestly see himself with her for a long time, but her guardedness frustrated him at times. It amazed him at times, how she could manage to simultaneously reveal so much and yet so little about herself. It felt as if he had to wrestle information out of her.

"That's right."

"Good. Let's make it so that sentence can't be a truth anymore, alright? I don't like hearing it."

"Okay."

They strolled past a display for 'Date Night with Chef Morgan' and a hostess directed them to the large room with six workstations where they selected one near the middle, not wanting to be too close or too far. At one station, another couple sat chatting in low voices.

"Ezekiel has been asking me to host a wine and paint class on the other side one of these days. That should be fun."

"Well look who it is." Rick looked up to find two familiar faces from Michonne's exhibition.

"What are you two doing here?" Michonne enthusiastically rose to her feet to embrace the women and the men, their dates for the evening, who accompanied them. It certainly was a night out for those who Ezekiel considered friends. "Rick, you remember Andrea and Sasha, don't you?"

"From the gallery," he said standing up to greet them as well.

"Nice to see you again Rick. Ezekiel invited me and I just had to bring Phillip here." Andrea said, exchanging a knowing look with Michonne as she led her date to a nearby station. "I can't cook for shit so this should be fun."

"Well it's nice to see you out Michonne. With Rick too," Sasha said with a cordial smile. "So, nice to see you again."

"You too."

"Oh, by the way Michonne. Will we see you at the family dinner next Sunday? It'll be nice for all of us to be with uncle David." It appeared to be a simple enough question, but he felt Michonne tense beside him. He looked between the cousin's and they seemed to be having a silent conversation with their eyes.

"I plan to," Michonne answered evenly. "Dad's actually headed back to work soon. Mom too."

"Uncle David has always been so strong. Maryland needs someone like him." Sasha looked toward Rick. "You'd like him."

"He would," Michonne responded, adding to the odd conversation. Although, Rick couldn't quite define what about it was odd. It seemed as if he was missing a key piece of information that would give an entirely different meaning to the seemingly standard friendly conversation.

"Well, Bob and I should grab a spot." Sasha glanced around at the last empty stations. "This is my fiancé Robert Stookey by the way." She placed a hand on the man's shoulder, addressing Rick. "Bob that's Rick. The farmer from the snow storm I told you about."

"Nice to meet you." The two men shook hands.

"Let's do lunch on Tuesday Michonne. It's been way too long since us girls had a chance to catch up and just chat." She glanced at the silent but pleasant man beside her. "She just loses herself in her work sometimes. So much talent."

"Great. Tuesday then."

Rick caught Michonne's eye as the couple walked away and she simply shrugged, biting her lip. "Sasha," she said, as if it were an explanation. He would eventually come to find that it certainly was an explanation, one that would inadvertently complicate things in the coming weeks.

The rhythmic sound of clapping hands drew their attention to the front of the room where a black man stood wearing a red traditional Chef's double-breasted jacket and black pants. He was the star of the evening.

"Welcome," he said, his warm eyes taking in the room's occupants. "I'm chef Morgan Jones and I hope you're all ready to get your hands dirty and strengthen those palates. We are not officially open for business yet, but this is how we plan to do the real thing and it is our hope that by having you here we can have the best possible opening night and some really useful feedback. So, tell your friends about this place and feel free to let me know if I suck as a teacher. I won't take any offence. It's not like I studied to be one." Amused chuckles filled the room at his joke.

"Tonight's theme involves us getting really creative with wine. It will be a part of all three courses. We have a wide selection for you to sample as you work. It'll loosen things up a bit, trust me. We will also have our photographer Jerry coming in to take a few snapshots as you work and then once you sit down for a wine and dine with your dates."

Before they began the food preparation, the couples briefly introduced themselves, even though the majority were already at least acquainted with each other. The unknown couple introduced themselves as Tara and Denise Cloyd and they were also there on Ezekiel's recommendation.

With Chef Morgan's instruction, the couples began their preparation for the main dish. As he began his task of chopping vegetables, he learned from Michonne that she did not eat any red meat so it was very fitting that they would be preparing a chicken dish rather that something involving beef as she would have expected. Rick found this interesting as he himself was a lover of all meats.

"You're really putting your all into that chopping over there," she commented in a light humorous tone.

"Yeah, so you better be takin' notes. Nobody chops peppers like Rick Grimes."

"Oh, I'm taking notes alright."

"Speaking of takin' notes, it's my mission tonight to learn all that I can learn about you in about…three hours. You did say I hardly know you."

"And you're not going to let me live that one down," she finished for him.

"Nope." He put down his knife, watching her work diligently. "Not a chance."

Rick quizzed her during the main course preparation all the way through the preparation of their red wine pear pie for dessert. He kept the questioning light and simple, not wanting their date to take any uncomfortable turns.

"This is great," she said, taking a sip of white wine before holding the glass out for him to taste. She glanced at the label on the bottle. "Pinot Grigio. It'll pair excellently with our food. I think we've found the one, but I'll see what Chef Morgan thinks. He probably has better suggestions."

He took a step toward her, placing a hand on her small waist as he took a sip from her glass, the zesty flavor of the wine filling his mouth. "Pretty good." She held his gaze with her dark shining eyes and the room seemed to disappear around them.

He had always been more of a beer guy, growing up the way he did. If it was one thing that would come from this relationship, it was him becoming more cultured. Coming from a small Georgia town, where he spent almost all his life, he didn't have too much experience outside what was the norm for King County and certainly not in the arts. Michonne was different. With her refined appreciation for art, music, literature and food, it was clear that she was from an entirely different world. It wasn't a matter of wealth, but of refinedness and ease.

Naturally, their lips ended up connecting in a slow sensual kiss in the middle of their workstation. The wine tasted even better on her soft lips. Caught up in the moment, she threw her hands around his neck, appearing to not care who was watching, and his arm tightened around her waist as he reminded himself where they were and fought the urge to lift her onto the counter and take things a bit further.

This wasn't their first steamy display in a kitchen, but it was the first in a room with seven other people.

It was Chef Morgan's soft voice that finally broke them away. "Sorry to interrupt, but your chicken might be burning."

"Shit!" Rick broke away from the kiss and picked up his spatula, but he was slow to move his hand from her waist. He chanced a glance across the room to see Andrea snickering softly with Phillip, before shooting him a thumb up.

"We can still save it," Michonne said, referring to the chicken, her expression a mixture of amusement and slight embarrassment. She refused to look over at the other stations.

They made an adequate attempt at focusing on their task throughout the rest of the preparations. Rick continued with his stirring and flipping, but his free hand always drifted toward her, pulling her close, lightly grazing her skin or resting on her hips.

"I was thinking about bringing Carl to Alexandria pick out his new dog next weekend," he said, as they started plating their dessert.

"Ooh, I bet he's so excited about that."

"Will you be in town next weekend?"

"Why? You wanna come see me Sherriff? These dates must be going as well for you as they are for me."

He winked at her. "I must be doing something right then. Dinner is served," he said dramatically adding the final touch to the slice of pie he was garnishing for her.

"I feel like you might become a natural in the kitchen," she said, taking a sip of wine, her eyes glued to his. "Chef Rick in addition to Farmer Rick? I like a multi-talented man."

The obvious innuendo in her words weren't helping the situation. He was finding it difficult to focus on anything that didn't involve his hands or his lips or anything else on her.

"Always looking for new jobs for me," he chuckled, picking up their appetizers. "Go sit down." He placed his free hand on her waist, gesturing to the beautifully set table where they would be dining on their prepared meal. "I'll serve tonight."

"So," he began after they started eating their meal. "You never did tell me about that night. How did you end up in our little town coming from a girl's spa trip?"

She laughed softly. "Turns out it was more than just a wrong turn. I was so far off from the spa I was at with Andrea and Sasha. Turns out, I would have gotten home much faster, like way before the storm started, if I had just turned on my GPS before entering your cellular dead zone of a town."

"How would you have found me then?"

"That's right," she said. "Everything that's supposed to happen happens. Maybe we were meant to meet each other that night, Rick."

"I'll thank my lucky stars for faulty GPS systems."

"Even though I was extremely pissed and worried and cold, I was happy when you came along. Everything was just going wrong that day and then you showed up and you weren't a serial killer. It was the best ending to a shitty day."

"Andre. You were trying to get home to him."

"Yean, it was a weekend, so Michael was supposed to have him, then he had a conference, so my Mom was supposed to have him, then Michael's conference got cancelled so he wanted him. Next thing I know, Andre's not feeling well and everything was just a huge mess and I knew it was only going to get fixed if I just cut the trip short and go the hell home to my child. Turns out there was some misunderstanding on my part and it all got resolved without me so there was no point in me leaving the spa in the middle of a storm anyway."

"Except to meet me."

"Yeah." A small smile formed on her lips. "Except to meet you."

"Excuse me." The pair looked up to find a bespectacled man holding a camera. "I'm Jerry. Can I take your picture for the wall? We plan to line the walls with candid photographs of our patrons."

"Sure," Michonne said, warmly to the man who had been wondering around as they cooked, snapping promotional pictures and the like. "Nice to see you again Jerry."

"Oh, that's right." Recognition dawned on his jovial face. "I knew you looked familiar. It really is a night for Ezekiel's closest friends. It's too bad he couldn't be here tonight."

"It is. How are we taking this picture?"

"Oh, it's supposed to be candid, so go back to what you're doing. I'll go around the room and snap it when I'm ready. We don't want it to look posed. We want the real you immortalized on these walls."

As Jerry walked away with his camera, Rick shot Michonne a look. "Does everybody in Alexandria act like that?"

She shrugged, playfully twisting her face in thought. "Just the ones associated with the great Ezekiel King."

He lifted his glass and she followed. "To Ezekiel King."

 **~TFW~**

Rick drove her home after the date and like their previous outing, she invited him up to her apartment. There was no hesitation on his part to accept the offer.

"That was hands down, the best date I've ever been on. I had a great time." She kicked off her shoes, bending down to pet an enthusiastic Snoopy as she strolled toward the living room with him in tow. "I can't wait to see the pictures Jerry took of us."

"Probably that show we put on in the middle of the kitchen," Rick reminded her with a chuckle. "I've never considered myself an exhibitionist but I am dating an artist and I've heard a lot about those kinds."

Michonne threw her head back in laughter. "Andrea said we're clearly a pair of freaky people. That was the highlight of _her_ night."

"Should we finish what we started then?" he asked suggestively. "I mean, we don't have an audience, but I'm sure we can manage." He walked slowly toward her as she backed toward the couch, her eyes on him as he came to stand in front of her.

"We'll see," she said softly as she rose to meet his lips. He wrapped an arm around her waist, lifted her slightly, and dropped her on the couch. Her fingers ran through his hair as his mouth attacked hers.

"This is starting to get a little addicting," she breathed when he came up to catch a breath between kisses.

"Starting? Don't bruise my ego." He continued the kiss, his hands sliding up against the thin fabric of her blouse and toward her breasts. He squeezed lightly as he hovered over her, slowing their kiss. Her legs locked around his waist as he moved to hold himself above her. He let out a groan as she ground her hips below him, most likely feeling his erection pressing between her legs.

Rick let out a defeated groan when her phone buzzed angrily from her pocket between them effectively interrupting them. "Sorry," she apologized, reaching down to grab the phone. He sat back on his haunches, watching as she glanced at her screen, adjusting her shirt before answering. "Hello?"

He stood up from the couch and she quickly caught his hand before he could walk away, a pleading look in her eye. "Wait," she mouthed, holding up a finger.

"I'm just getting some water." He cupped her cheek. "Then we'll finish what we started."

He tried not to eavesdrop as he made his way to the kitchen, but it was hard to ignore her voice emanating from the other room when he heard the name of her "ex-fiancé" escape her lips with an exasperated sigh.

"Is he alright? Just keep an eye on it in case it gets worse and call me if it does…yeah, we can talk when you drop him off tomorrow." He heard her say. "I know, but I've been busy these past few weeks in case you didn't know. And I don't get what's so important that you can't just tell me over the phone like a normal person."

He filled a glass with water, leaning back against the counter as she continued. He drowned out the conversation for a moment as his mind started pondering. Michael rarely came up in any of their conversations, other than what she revealed at dinner that night. Yet he couldn't help but wonder how the man went from fiancé to ex- fiancé. He waited until he heard her say her goodbyes before he reemerged from the kitchen.

She remained in the same spot he left her, staring off at the wall with an indecipherable expression on her face. He took a seat next to her, but she didn't immediately acknowledge his presence. Minutes passed before she finally shifted her body to face him, a strange look in her eye. She scooted closer to him, placing her head on his shoulder as her delicate palm came up to rest on his chest. When she finally spoke, her voice was soft and sensual. "Stay tonight."

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 **Thanks for reading! Sorry this took so long. I deleted rewrote this chapter three times because I hated everything I wrote. I hope you enjoy this version that I've decided to go with.**

 **The rest of this date weekend will be continued in the next chapter ;) Let's see what these two get up to.**

 **I'll try to update 'The Ambassador's Daughter' next.**


	6. Chapter Six: The First Night

A/N: Thanks for all the amazing reviews for the previous chapter. I hope you enjoy this one.

 **Chapter Six: The First Night**

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He woke up to her the next morning. A smile formed on his lips as he lifted his head from the soft pillow besides hers. She laid facing away from him in all her naked glory, the white sheets pulled up to her chest and her face a picture of serenity.

He watched her as she slept, remembering the night before. After Michonne asked him to stay the atmosphere in the room quickly morphed from sober to sexually charged, whatever was plaguing her mind, quickly forgotten.

" _Lay back for me," he had said after some time of exploring her mouth with his._

 _She did as he asked as he slowly drew her shirt away from her body, leaving her bare from the waist up other than her black bra. Her smooth dark skin seemed to glow in the dim light and he was filled with an unfamiliar intense upwelling of desire. He was far from inexperienced, but something about her felt different. He couldn't quite put a finger on what it was that he felt for her in that moment._

 _Rick sat back, taking her in, his eyes moving over her body from her supple lips to her shimmering eyes and soft skin of her chest. Michonne raised her brow, a curious look on her face. She was probably wondering why he his gaze was transfixed on her. He slowly reached forward, his fingers sliding against the strap of her bra right above the swell of her breasts. He slowly moves his fingers up the strap moving over her shoulder to reach behind her and unclasp it with deft fingers._

 _Their eyes remained connected as he drew the material away from her chest, the straps falling away from the shoulders as it moved. He felt her hand in his hair as he lowered his head, his tongue swirling around her hard nipple, lightly biting down. Once he had his mouth on her body, he couldn't tear himself away, it was as if he wanted to consume her._

 _His hands replaced his mouth as his lips connected her mouth once again. Her own hands were occupied with attempts to remove his clothes as he pressed his body against hers, his arousal apparent. He reached back to tug his shirt off and her pants followed after._

 _He drove in with a vigorous thrust and their bodies began moving together sinuously in the dim light. She closed her eyes, soft moans and gasps escaping her lips as they established a cohesive rhythm. Her fingers dug into is skin and she began gasping is name as they worked toward orgasm. At some point after their coupling he carried her to the bedroom where they fell asleep, tangled in each other's arms._

As if she could sense his eyes on her, she began to stir, bringing him back to the present. She yawned softly as her eyes slowly blinked open as she was roused from her sleep. She turned over so she was on her back and a smile spread across her smooth angelic face as she gazed at him with sleepy eyes.

He wrapped an arm around her waist, drawing her closer. "Finally awake, beautiful?"

She smiled sleepily, laying her head against his chest, her bare leg rubbing against his as they lay skin to skin under the sheets. She slowly ran her hand over his chest. "Good morning to you too."

"Sleep well?"

"More than well." She languidly stretched her legs, wiggling her toes against his leg. "What's on the agenda for today."

"Well, I can think of a way to spend the morning," Rick said, emphasizing the meaning of his words with the slight movement of his hips against her.

"Really? How?" Her voice was low and raspy with desire as she innocently batted her hooded eyes at him.

"Well it's gonna start something like this." He tightened his arm around her, shifting her body so her naked chest was flush against his.

"This feels very familiar."

"Does it?" He shifted his lower body, his erection pressing against her pelvis.

In the untimeliest manner, her phone interrupted, buzzing angrily on the dresser. He groaned in frustration and she smiled apologetically at him before reaching for it. Her naked body sliding against his as she moved, their bodies dangerously close to having a repeat of the night before. "Hello?"

A faint voice echoed through the phone in response. "Oh, hey Mom…Oh you are? "Brunch? I already have plans for the day actually." She listened as her mother spoke and his hands slowly circled her hips as he waited for her to finish her phone call. "How about Tuesday? You can join Sasha and me. I'll be in DC for the day anyway…"

Rick felt her body tense in his arms before she slowly unhooked his hands from her waist, scooting away so she could leave the bed. He watched as she rose, naked, from the bed, reaching for her robe. She turned to mouth 'be right back' at him before she shuffled out of the bedroom.

He was tempted to wait for her to finish her call so they could finish what they started, but there would be plenty of time for that. What they needed was a quick energy booster.

When he entered the living room, he could hear her voice faintly echoing from the loft. He found his boxers on the floor near the couch and pulled them on idly wondering why she ventured up there to talk to her mother.

He was already started on breakfast when she strolled into the kitchen. "My thighs are sore and I blame you," Michonne announced when she joined him in the kitchen. He turned to find her robe gone and replaced by an oversized t-shirt and tiny loose shorts. "Something smells nice in here."

"Don't sound so surprised."

"I'm not. I trust Carl's opinion on your excellent breakfast making skills. So, am I finally going to get a chance to taste those famous pancakes of yours?" She wrapped her hand around his waist, resting her head against his back.

"The very ones." He turned around, capturing her full lips in a kiss as his hand slipped down the back of her cotton shorts cupping her round, firm nude behind. She moaned into his mouth, her fingers finding his hair.

His hand rounded her waist and he lifted her onto the counter in one swift movement, breakfast momentarily forgotten. His hands started exploring under her shirt, sliding over her sides. He cupped her breasts as a devious smile formed on his face at the feel of his second favorite part of her body.

"You enjoy distracting me? I don't want to burn these pancakes and ruin my perfect record. Don't think I forgot how you made me burn our dinner last night. I got a long memory."

"All I did was walk into the room. You do a pretty good job of finding distractions on your own." She looked pointedly at his hands, which were still under her shirt kneading her breasts.

"So, we're gonna ignore the fact that you were rubbin' all up on my back? This was a provoked response." He finally extracted his hands away, returning to his task. There would be more time for groping later.

"I wouldn't call it rubbing. I was just saying hello," she defended playfully. "I'm starting to think we might have a thing for kitchens though."

They had their breakfast in the living room as they did with their lunch date weeks prior. Michonne turned on some music and they snuggled back against the seat of the couch from their spot on the cushion filled floor. Rick spent more time touching her than actually eating, but she certainly didn't mind.

"I'm keeping you forever to make me breakfast whenever I want it," she said, letting out a moan of ecstasy as she chewed.

"Told you."

"This has been the best date I've ever been on by the way." She giggled, placing her plate down on the nearby table. She gave him a quick peck of thanks on his lips as she sat back down and stole a piece of fruit from his plate. "It's also the longest date I've been on. This has to be some kind of a record."

"I must be a good thing since we're not sick of each other yet." He put his own plate away and pulled her closer and she moved to straddle his lap. Her phone buzzed and she glanced over at the screen on the table but made no move to get it.

"Sorry, my phone isn't usually that busy," she apologized. "I lose the damn thing half the time. It usually pisses Michael off. It's just been a hectic few weeks, so I keep it close."

"It's fine. So, ex-fiancé again, huh?" He nodded toward the phone.

"You caught that ex-fiancé thing?" She rolled her eyes, remembering Michael's description of their relationship.

"Well, I was standing right there when he was puffing up his chest for me."

"Good 'ol Michael."

"What happened there?"

She shrugged noncommittally, averting her gaze. "Maybe it was my fear of commitment or maybe it wasn't meant to be. I'm going to paint for a little while, okay? Join me? You'll get to see me in action." She placed a soft kiss on his lips. "And maybe not just painting action." She stood up from his lap, strolling away from him.

He didn't immediately follow her.

Her guardedness frustrated him at times. It was amazing how she could reveal so much and yet so little about herself at the same time. It felt as if he had to wrestle information out of her. It was clear his bringing up her ex bothered her, but she was good at redirecting and playing things off.

The apartment was quiet for a while save for the sound Snoopy dragging his back against the floor as he entertained himself in the way dogs do. He shook his head in amusement at the silly animal.

He finally heard her moving around from above. She must have started working on the piece from the day before. He rose from the couch and made his way toward the stairs to find her. When he entered what she referred to as her lair, she was seated in front of an easel and her hair was pulled to the top of her head. She wore a look of deep concentration and she didn't immediately acknowledge his presence when he entered.

"Sorry about that."

"About what?" She took a sip from her glass, but didn't look up from the easel.

"For bringing up something you obviously don't want to talk about. It's just frustrating sometimes. The evasiveness."

"You think I'm hiding something."

"I don't know. Are you?"

"I don't know." She held his gaze steadily before blowing out a breath and dropping her pencil. "I think I get what you're saying though. Sorry."

"Believe me, I'm not much of a sharer myself," he chuckled. "It's just…different."

"I didn't mind you for asking or anything," she said with a sigh. "It's just that he... it's a difficult situation. This weekend is about us and I don't want to talk about that stuff."

Rick nodded his head, thinking back on the man that entered Michonne's apartment unannounced under the guise of seeing his son. He still wanted to know what the man wanted and if he ever had the conversation he so desperately wanted to have with Michonne that day.

"Okay, so tell me," she said, picking up a paintbrush and twirling it between her fingers. "What do you know about me so far other than my name and my favorite music? This is my chance to be more open."

He thought for a moment. "I know…you're a great listener. It's so easy to talk to you, everything just spills out. Yet your mind is a mystery to me," he smiled. "I also know that you're a very caring person, you're funny and you're probably one of the smartest people I know." His eyes moved over her body. "And you have a perfect body. Very nice assets. Best I've ever laid eyes on."

She burst into a fit of laughter. "Sounds like you know a lot to me. Nice way to finish that off though."

He stood up from the floor, walking slowly toward her. Her eyes followed him as he came to stand beside her. He leaned down toward her and she rose to her knees to meet his lips. He wrapped an arm around her waist and he lifted her from her stool and practically dropped her on the slightly paint splattered the couch. Her fingers ran through his hair as his mouth attacked hers.

"This is starting to get a little addicting," she breathed when he came up for a breath.

"Starting? Don't bruise my ego." He continued the kiss, his hands sliding up against the thin fabric of her blouse as he lay on top of her, slowing their kiss. "You're perfect."

"Does this ever scare you?" she asked quietly shifting her hips beneath him as his lips trailed down her neck sending shivers up her spine. "When I'm with you I just feel… it's a nice feeling."

Speaking of intense, what felt in that moment would only lead to one thing. He let out a breath through his nose. "You have no idea."

"You know, I was supposed to be working on this thing this weekend," she reminded him. To his satisfaction, she pulled herself closer. He didn't realize it before meeting her, but physicality was something he had been craving for quite some time. He had a longing for physical touch and a burning attraction to another person.

"Am I distracting you?" He ran his lips across her collarbone, leaving soft kisses behind. Her skin smelled wonderful.

"I didn't plan on actually getting any painting done." She wrapped a leg around waist and he was sure she could feel his cock against her through the thin material of his boxers.

Her t-shirt was on the floor and it was no surprise that his mouth went straight to her chest eliciting soft moans from her lips. She arched her back, pressing her chest forward.

His lips trailed up, his hands, taking their place as their lips met in a frenzied kiss. His hands explored her body, wanting to touch everywhere at once, cupping and sliding as she shook with pleasure in his arms.

His fingers slipped into the front of her pants and hers remained in his curls as he worked her toward an orgasm. His name left her lips in pleading gasps as she begged for more. Instead of words, they used their bodies to communicate. Her tugging fingers and breathless moans conveyed her need for his proximity. There was a need to prolong the passion between them.

"I want you." His fingers left her and hooked into the waistband of her loose shorts, swiftly removing it. Her movements grew impatient and he hastily lost his only piece of clothing and pushed himself into her in one swift motion filling her body and evoking a breathless gasp from her lips. Her eyes locked with his as he braced his arms on the couch behind her. He pulled his hips back before driving forward again, sinking her body back against the couch. Her hands found his hair again as she silently begged him to continue.

She was left breathless by the sensations of the fervent undulation of his hips. His grip on her thigh tightened as he gained speed. Her toes curled and her eyes rolled back as her impassioned cries filled the room.

They somehow ended up on the floor, in their frenzied state, knocking nearby art supplies over as they descended. Their movements, if possible, were more desperate than before. The pounding of his hips grew more erratic and he slid his hands between their bodies, finding her clit to ensure they finished together.

Rick wasn't sure how long they lay together in silence, catching their breath after they reached their peak. He kept his eyes on her perfect face the entire time as her head rested against, his chest, her eyes shut and she wore a look of contentment.

"Morning sex on my art studio floor. Not a bad way to spend the weekend." Michonne said, breathlessly breaking the silence.

 **~TFW~**

"I was in a bad place when I painted that one."

He turned away from the somewhat disturbing painting with the angry red and black strokes and misshapen figures he was admiring to find an awake and alert Michonne, in an upright position on the couch behind him, clutching the blanket he had spread across her against her chest. "It's strange, but I like it."

"Does it speak to you?" She teased, in a slightly sarcastic tone.

"I guess it might be." He walked back toward her, climbing onto the couch behind her and pulling her into his arms. "What were you working on today?"

"My Dad's birthday is coming up," she shared. "I've been wracking my brain trying to think of what to get a man who seems to have everything."

"What's your family like?"

"Bougie as hell." she laughed. "Yours?"

He shrugged. "They're alright. The ones that are left, that is."

She placed her hand over his, giving him a warm comforting smile. They were silent for some time and the next words out of her mouth surprised him. "I didn't want to marry Michael."

He sat up slightly, to have a proper look at her. She kept her eyes straight ahead as she spoke in a low voice. "We were supposedly the perfect couple. That's what everybody called us. His grandparents are prominent political figures and my father has this great political career and with elections coming up, he might become even more of a household name. Then there's Michael, who is pretty successful himself. Everybody knew he would be. He's making a name for himself and he might even run for office soon."

She closed her eyes, recollecting the past events of her life. "We got engaged long before André was even a possibility and it ended up being a very long engagement. But that was mostly because of me. I didn't need a piece of paper, some frilly dress and a big ass wedding to say that we loved each other. I was happy just being." She sighed, rubbing her forehead. "I didn't know it then, but I was only with him because it felt like what I was supposed to do. Then André makes his appearance and that's when the pressure got intense. Pressure from Michael, from my parents, from his parents. We _needed_ to get married before André arrived. During that time, I started liking him, and them, less and less and at that point I didn't want to get married at all. There was no maybe about it anymore."

"So, you called off the engagement?"

"Something like that." Michoone bit her lip, appearing to consider her next words. "I wish I did that instead, it would have saved us a lot grief, drama and embarrassment, but I didn't go to the wedding. I never showed up to my own wedding day. I was going to go through with it, but I got on a train instead and I ended up in Georgia. Thankfully, I called home before the national search party started. I just wished I handled things more maturely."

She moved to lay her lead on his chest, looking up at him from the side. His eyes shamelessly followed her as she moved around in the nude. "It's been four years and my Mom _still_ thinks it was pregnancy hormones," she laughed. "That's what she tells everybody. She's still holding out hope for us getting back together. If only it were that simple."

Rick chuckled. "Moms."

"Yeah. Moms."

"She'll have to stop hoping for that though, because I'm pretty sure after today that's never happening. And I don't want people getting any wrong ideas and hitting on my woman."

"Oh, so I'm your woman?"

"Tell me something else about yourself." His hand caressed her thigh. It was his turn to redirect conversations to where he wanted them.

"Hmm let's see." She stared thoughtfully at the ceiling thinking of what she could share. "I went to law school after college."

"Law school?"

"Mom's a doctor and Dad's a lawyer," Michonne explained with a laugh. "They had really high expectations and I was really desperate to meet those expectations. I had to continue the legacy they started. So, I went to law school even though I wasn't particularly interested in it as an actual career. Now, here I am."

"Here you are." He enjoyed the serene look on her flawless face. "Painting and planning weddings."

"And happy," she added. "Very happy."

"What else for today?"

"The ball is still in your park cowboy. I'm all yours for the afternoon until my little man gets home at five."

"I'll hold you to that." He ran a hand through his hair as ideas swirled in his head. "Let's get out of here for a while then. I'm starving already, but I know a great little place where we can grab some lunch. I'll have you back before five, I promise."

"So, I take it this place is in the middle of nowhere?" she asked, sitting up and stretching her stiff muscles.

"Yep and don't think about asking where it is. You'll see when we get there."

An hour later they were driving along the roads on the outskirts of the city, his hand was planted firmly on her thigh. "What are you up to this week?"

"I'm meeting a few potential people for hire. I'll really need the extra help on the farm."

She leaned back against the seat smiling to herself. "I can't wait to see you in action once it's warmer out. I can see you in a cowboy hat wrangling your herd or whatever."

"I might disappoint you because I'm not even sure that I own a cowboy hat. You should come see if you remember how to ride though," he suggested. "Horses that is."

"Thanks for the clarification. Hard to keep my mind out of the gutter," she laughed heartily as she placed a hand over the one on her thigh. "Will I have to wait until the weekend to see you again?"

Rick glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. "I definitely won't be able to stay away that long. You're free to stop by anytime you want and if I'm in the area, and I very well might be, I'll give you a call. Six days is too long."

"Tuesday, it is then." She peered skeptically out the window. "I know we're way past the serial killer thing, but I'm starting to get worried about where you're taking me. I don't see no buildings, Rick. Don't forget I've taken kickboxing lessons and I'm not afraid to come back and haunt you if you try any funny business."

He chuckled at their running joke. "You're too funny. We'll be there in a minute and it's a real eating establishment, not my kill room." The small building came into view sometime after and he pulled into the parking lot. "Here we are."

"What is this place?" she asked, as she climbed out of the truck.

"It's actually Carl's discovery and I was skeptical at first, because it looks like something straight out of a horror movie, but it's apparently well known around these parts and they have great food."

"These parts, huh?" She linked her hand through his, smiling at the hilarious thought of the place being well known when there hardly seemed to be anything around those parts to begin with. "Well I'll trust Carl's judgement. He hasn't failed me yet."

They entered the diner and a man with bright red hair greeted them and introduced himself as Abraham, the co-owner of the establishment. Rick hadn't met him before on his previous visits to the diner, but the man appeared friendly and open.

"Good selection of southern cuisine," Michonne said, as she glanced down at the menu. "Nice décor too. I like it."

"Hello there." A man with an inexplicably bad mullet, that Rick recognized as the painfully awkward Eugene stood at their table with a pen and notepad. "My name is Eugene and I will be serving you your midday meal. You should thank your lucky stars today isn't a rush day because you would have a wait. Luckily we have a quick and fail-safe delivery system here so you'll be eating said mid-day meal in a jiffy and on your way to partake in other afternoon festivities that don't involve sitting in a single place for an extended period of time."

The pair stared slightly slack-jawed at their waiter as he finished his long-winded and bizarrely worded sentence. Michonne was already convinced that they had officially entered the twilight zone and she was prepared to just go with it. "Good to know. Well we know what we want." Rick went on to order them a few of his and Carl's favorites and Eugene shuffled away to the kitchen, promising to return quickly.

"Something tells me we're in for an interesting afternoon."

You have no idea," Rick laughed.

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 **Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed the chapter. Hopefully I will finish the other one a lot faster than this one. Let me know what you thought of this.**


	7. Chapter Seven: The Matriarch

It took me longer than I planned to get this chapter out. I've been so demotivated lately because the place I was born and the place I grew up in were both devastated by category 5 hurricanes. The devastation back home has been very difficult to see. Please keep Dominica, the U.S. Virgin Islands, Puerto Rico, and the other islands in your thoughts and prayers. Especially the first two, because it is so easy to ignore or forget about the lesser known areas of the world.

Thanks again for all the amazing reviews. Some of them are hilarious and I enjoy reading every single word. I hope you all enjoy this new chapter.

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 **Chapter Seven: The Matriarch**

Rick was elsewhere when she met with Sasha and her mother the following Tuesday. If he had been there, as unlikely as that scenario would be, the meeting would have offered some timely clarity on the Westbrook family dynamics. Unfortunately, in life, not everything occurs in a timely manner.

That Tuesday the Westbrook matriarch stepped into the upscale Washington DC restaurant, a frequent hub for the famous and those prominent figures in the political world, with a purpose. She approached the hostess, her eyes scanning the restaurant for her daughter and niece.

"Hello." She mustered up her warmest smile. Appearances were everything in this world and she was sure to pass on that nugget of truth to her only daughter. Although the young woman seemed to forget her mother's teaching at times. "Westbrook party of three."

"Right this way ma'am," the hostess said leading the woman further into the restaurant. "The other two are already here."

The tension between the two younger women at the table was thick. It appeared that Winnie Westbrook would be conducting some damage control on what was sure to be more than a friendly brunch, whether they realized it or not.

"Hello ladies." She gracefully took a seat at the table. "Beautiful day, isn't it? How are we today?"

"Great."

"What about you sweetheart?" She turned her eyes to her daughter who seemed to have managed to dress in something other than her usual colorful hippie attire. White always did look good on her.

"Doing great Mom," Michonne answered, lifting her glass to her lips and avoiding her gaze. "How's Dad doing?"

"He's moving forward strong and steady. You know your father. He'll be back into the swing of things in no time." She picked up the menu and started browsing through even though she already knew what she would order. It was what she always ordered. "Nobody said becoming the first black governor of Maryland would be easy. A little heart attack is just battle scars in the grand scheme of things."

"Is he announcing soon?"

"Not quite yet. We're waiting for the perfect moment, but we've been creating a little media buzz though. Dropping some nuggets here and there to get him on people's minds." She placed down the menu, looking between the two women. "But enough about all that political mumbo jumbo talk. This is about us ladies catching up. How have you two been? Deanna Monroe told me she bought an excellent piece from your exhibition Michonne. The talent from my side of the family is strong, so you get that from me."

She let out a throaty laugh and the other two joined in polite laughter.

"Oh yeah. It wasn't one that was for sale, but she managed to convince me."

"She can be very persuasive. A woman who knows what she wants and takes it. She's good to have on our side," Winnie said with a knowing nod. "And how's the wedding planning going Sasha? I'm so looking forward to that day."

"It's still in the very early stages. Bob and I can't wait to walk down the aisle. We're still trying to decide on a date."

Sasha often referred to Bob, the love of her life. Whether that was true or not, was unknown, but the pair seemed content with each other. They met two years prior at a military base in Bethesda where Bob worked as a doctor at the Walter Reed National Medical Center. Coincidentally Michonne's mother worked three minutes away at the National Institutes for Health.

"Have you hired a planner yet?"

"I'm considering my options. There still so much to do and it's honestly a little overwhelming to even decide where to start."

"It's okay to feel a little overwhelmed. As long as there are no second thoughts." Winnie's eyes flitted to Michonne. "I'm sure Michonne would love to offer any input you might need. She's probably met some great planners since she spends so much time around weddings and all that. It's such a shame she hasn't attended one for herself yet." She held up her two hands with her index finger twisted around her middle finger. "Fingers crossed though. Michael's still single as far as I know and if that doesn't work out, maybe she might meet a nice man at your wedding. I'm sure Bob has some good-looking cousins because lord knows Michael might still be traumatized after she up and left him at the altar. _I'm_ still traumatized."

"Mom. Can we not do this now?" Michonne placed down her glass, letting out a heavy sigh, a clear indication that she did not want to go there. It was bad enough she was speaking about her as if she wasn't sitting at the same table.

Winnie decided to back down for the time being. "Okay. I'm a mother. I just want to see you happy with somebody is all. Think of how nice it would be when we're all on stage celebrating your father's win in the gubernatorial race and then the presidency some years down the line. It would be nice if you had someone at your side through it all."

"I have André."

"And what about that guy you've been seeing," Sasha interjected, sipping her wine. "He seemed really nice and the two of you seemed close."

And there it was.

Winnie plastered a mega-watt smile on her face, feigning ignorance. Her eyes flitting between the two women in an almost cartoonish way. "What guy?"

"Look it's –"

"Are you ladies ready to order?"

Michonne could have kissed the waiter for the timely interruption. "Yes, I'll have the lamb salad with fregola." Winnie and Sasha rattled off their orders after her and the waiter left them promising to be back with Winnie's drink momentarily.

"What guy?" Winnie, never one to forget easily, repeated when the waiter left. She folded her hands delicately under her chin as she waited for an answer. "Is he someone I might know? Does he work here in D.C.?"

"No, he's not actually and things are still relatively new. We've been seeing each other over a month or so."

"He's the guy who saved her from the snowstorm remember." Sasha jutted out her chin, raising her brow at Michonne. "Rick was his name, right?"

"Oh, I remember," Winnie said with a snap of her fingers as she sat back in her chair. Her eyes never left the twin pair of deep brown belonging to her daughter. "It was during that whole miscommunication thing with Michael when you ladies were up at that spa in the middle of nowhere. That whole thing is a perfect example of why proper planning and flexibility is important ladies. Especially if you are dealing with busy, successful men with careers."

"Yeah."

Michonne kept her expression neutral, but she was burning with annoyance on the inside. As far as she was concerned, what happened that night was entirely Michael's fault. It was his lack of planning and communication that led her to the streets in the middle of a snow storm despite the protests of Andrea and Sasha.

"So, you've been…seeing the, what was he? A farmer?"

Michonne sighed heavily, shifting her weight in her chair. "Yeah, he is. He owns a farm out in the countryside. That's where I was when he saved me."

Her mother barely hid the grimace that fleetingly crossed her face. "You have to be careful with those middle of nowhere small-town…folks. I'm sure you know that already darling. He could be a serial killer for all you know."

Instead of waiting for a response, she turned her attention back to Sasha, who gave Michonne an apologetic smile as her mother started talking about wedding arrangements once again. Michonne didn't missed the cleverly aimed jabs that were clearly directed her way, as her mother gushed about Bob and Sasha's upcoming marriage, Bob's numerous job offers and their future together.

"I'm so proud of you sweetheart." Those were words rarely spoken by the woman. "So, will the two of you be making a move to Baltimore after the wedding? Is Bob really thinking of leaving Walter Reed? I know how much he loves it there and it has such a good community. But that's the thing about those work environments. You get too emotionally attached. I try to step back from all of that."

"I don't think we'll leave. It's just something we've been considering, but we'll see how it goes."

"You ladies make me want to cry." Winnie nodded, dramatically fanning her face as tears welled in her eyes. "This Sunday should be a day of celebration. Oh, Michonne? Bring your guy to dinner this Sunday. I would _love_ to meet him. It sounds like things are getting serious between you and this Rick so I think it's time he meets mama Westbrook. Don't you agree?"

"I think Rick might be busy this Sunday," Michonne quickly replied, trying to think of a way to put off that meeting as long as she could possibly manage. She wasn't entirely sure Rick could handle mama Westbrook.

Winnie paused, her expression going neutral as she considered her daughter's words. "Too busy to meet your family? How serious are the two of you baby?"

"Mom, this is really new and Rick had plans from weeks before. It's a family thing. It's not like he was expecting to be invited out this weekend. Maybe at a time where there is more notice."

"Will _you_ be there though?"

"Of course. I wouldn't miss it."

"It's a shame he can't make it to meet the family," she hummed, her probing eyes never leaving her daughter's. "Some other Sunday then? If this is serious I'm sure there'll be time in the future."

"Sure."

Winnie glanced at her time as she finished signing their bill. "Well ladies, it's been nice chatting with the two of you and catching up, but I've got a meeting in half an hour. We should do this more often. I'll see the two of you on Sunday?"

"See you Sunday."

"Yep. Bye Aunty."

As the poised woman made her departure, Michonne turned to her, her shoulders dropping. "What the hell was that Sasha? Why would you do that?"

"What?"

"Sasha, you _know_ how she gets. Why would you tell her about Rick when it's still so…?" Michonne's frustration was building. "That's why she called to invite herself here, isn't it? So she can interrogate me? And make me feel like shit for being a disappointment and not living up to her standards. She still hasn't forgiven me for the mess that was my wedding day."

"I guess I just let it slip. We were talking about Deanna Monroe and your painting came up and then she started to talk about Michael and then I spoke without thinking. And she didn't make you feel like shit. Aunt Winnie is practically a saint. Maybe that's your own guilt talking." Her shoulders drew up and she appeared somewhat flustered. "Plus, I'm worried about you. How well do you even know this guy? I get that you want to live like a hippie and free and happy or whatever, but sometimes you need to step back and think things through. Stop jumping into things and running away when they get too tough."

"Thanks for your concern, but I don't need it. I'm a grown ass woman and I know how to make decisions for myself. Let me be my own person." She wasn't sure if she was directing those last words at Sasha, her mother, or herself. "See you Sunday." She grabbed her bag and rose from the table, leaving her cousin without so much as a backward glance.

 **~TFW~**

Miles away from the D.C. restaurant, in the Virginia countryside, Rick was strolling along the fields of his still newly acquired farm with a man named Daryl Dixon at his side. "You can start next Monday. Spring is right around the corner and we still have preparations to make."

"Okay." Daryl Dixon proved to be a man of few words. In the three hours since Rick had known him, he only responded to direct questions and his replies were laconic at best.

"And you live in the area?"

"Yes."

Another one word answer.

"Great. Considering what you can to, it'll be good to have you 'round here." He held out his hand for Daryl to shake and the man loosely gripped his hand, giving a quick shake before letting go.

The two men stood in awkward silence for a moment until Rick's phone began buzzing in his pocket. He smiled as he glanced down at the most beautiful name in the world. Michonne called him a few hours prior to chat before her brunch date with Sasha, so he figured that must be over.

Rick patted Daryl's shoulder. "We all good here? We can go through everything else next Monday."

"Thanks. See you Monday." The man shoved his hands into his pockets, not making direct eye contact as he briskly walked away from Rick and toward his truck.

"Hello beautiful."

"Hey Cowboy!" her melodic voice rang through the phone.

"What are you up to? You all finished with the ladies."

"Uh huh," she said absently. "It was an…enlightening meal. I'm actually on my way to pick up André from school. They have an early dismissal today. How'd the interview go?"

"I hired the guy. Daryl is his name." Rick watched as the truck pulled away from the farm and he gave one final nod at his new employee. "He's really quiet and a little on the odd side, but he seems alright otherwise. I could use the help, so as long as he ain't crazy, he'll do." He began his trek back to the main house, hoping to get some rest before Carl arrived home.

"What are you doing this weekend? This week for that matter. You should drop by the 'ol farm. We'd love to see your pretty smile 'round here."

Although he couldn't see her, she nodded, plastering a smile on her face as her mind drifted back to brunch a few hours before and the discomfort part of the upcoming weekend will surely bring. "Sure. I might bring my stuff to paint on Saturday. I think a change of scenery might work wonders for me. I'll be busy Sunday though, because I have a family thing."

"Sunday dinner."

"How'd you know about that?"

"Your cousin mentioned it when we were at Ezekiel's for our date."

"Yeah, I'm going over there early to help my mom. She insists that I get there early and when my mom wants something she makes sure she gets it. By the way, mama Westbrook wants you to come to one of our Sunday dinners sometime."

"Does she?"

"It's a little early for meeting parents, but Sasha let it slip and now she insists."

"Let it slip, huh?"

"I just mean, she told my mother that I'm seeing someone, so I'm sure everybody knows. That's not something I discussed with her or anybody yet for that matter. Carl and André don't even know about us. You're probably picking him up from school soon, right?"

"He's riding home with a friend just for today. I didn't know how long I would be with Daryl and everything today and his friend's mom insisted it was alright when I dropped him off this morning. He gets on well with her two boys."

"Well that's really nice of her."

He collapsed on the couch, kicking off his boots with a heavy sigh. "So, back to my original question. When am I going to see you again? I'll make a trip into the city if I have to."

Michonne voice was low and sultry. "You can drop by any time. Trust me, I won't mind. That was some weekend we had. Why? Miss me?"

Rick adjusted the growing hardness in his pants. "You have no idea."

"So I take it, we'll be seeing each other before Saturday."

"Clearly."

"Tomorrow it is then, sheriff."

Michonne hung up with Rick, making her way through the small group of chattering parents gathered outside André's school with their children at their side. As she approached his classroom, a small ball of energy came tumbling toward her.

"Mommy look what I drew!" André yelled excitedly bouncing on his toes as he waved a paper in front of his mother. His big brown eyes were shining with excitement.

"What do we have here?" She took the sheet of paper with its explosion of colorful crayon wax, appraising it with a nod of approval. "Abstract art. You have some real talent there Bump. What do you call it?"

"Drawing!"

"Pretty cool. I can't think of a better name."

"Uh huh. It's a horse and a boat." He traced over the scribbles, outlining the abstract figures.

"I like it," she declared. "Do you want me to keep it or…"

"I want to give it to grandpa like you. I make another one for you." He already made up his mind.

"That's so sweet of you." She leaned forward to place a wet kiss on his forehead, before taking his hand. "Grandpa will love this." She waved at his teacher saying her goodbyes as they exited the private school that Winnie made sure to have the availability for her grandson to attend. She was, after all, friends with one of the board members and had provided much needed services in the past due to her position at the NIH.

"Learn anything cool today?" she asked the boy as they strolled across the parking lot to her silver car. She smiled whenever she saw it, remembering her favorite cowboy.

"A lot of things," he replied, as he climbed into the backseat of the car.

Once they pulled away from the preschool, André broke the silence with a question Michonne expected for some time, but wasn't particularly prepared to answer. "How come me, you and daddy don't live together? Sarah says we're s'posed to."

She glanced up at her son through the rearview mirror, smiling slightly at the inquisitive young boy. "Daddy has his own home and so does mommy. All families are different and not all mommies and daddies live together. In fact, not everybody has a mommy and a daddy. Think of Paul's family. We're all different and that makes us special."

André twisted his mouth, his little mind making sense of her words for a moment before simply replying "okay." That explanation would work for him for the time being. "Daddy wants a family."

"What do you mean?" she asked, trying not to jump to any conclusions about what Michael may or may not have done to bring on this line of questioning. "What makes you say that?"

"I heard him," he said, unzipping his backpack and pulling out one of his books. He seemed to be losing interest in the conversation already. "People like to see families. And they eat a pear with ants."

"What people?"

"People." André shrugged his little shoulders, engrossed in the page in front of him. Michonne sighed, looking out at the road ahead. She gave up on keeping up with Michael and his antics long ago. Part of her knew something deeper was going on, but she decided not to dwell too much on it.

Upon arriving home to their apartment André ran to the table to finish with his workbook while Michonne headed to the kitchen to fix him an afternoon snack. She kept André's words at the back of her mind knowing sooner or later they needed to have a talk.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket and she groaned audibly upon seeing the flashing name.

Speak of the devil.

"Michael," she answered the phone.

"You know, I miss the days when you used to call me Mike. You sound like my mom when she's pissed about something when you say Michael like that."

"Yeah well…"

"How you been? We never got a chance to talk. Pick up and drop off with André has been pretty quick lately. If I didn't know any better I'd say you were avoiding me."

Michonne's eyes seemed to roll on their own accord. "Avoiding you? I see you every Friday and Sunday afternoon. I don't see you any more or any less than I normally do. There's no need for avoidance, _Michael_."

"Alright, alright. Somebody is clearly in a bad mood," he chuckled. "Remember what I told you you a few weeks ago?"

She pretended otherwise. "I don't know what you mean, you ask a lot of things. I don't pay attention to them all."

"You know damn well what I mean."

"Are you talking about getting back together? We both know that's not happening in this lifetime, so I hope that's not what you're bringing up again."

"I know and I don't expect it to. It's just that, I've started seeing someone. It might be getting serious."

"Serious huh?" She grabbed a plate for André's lunch. "I hope the lucky girl wasn't _seeing_ you when you were making the case for us getting back together. That would make the seriousness very questionable."

"Don't be like that," he chuckled, never one to take her seriously. Even when her tone was acerbic, he knew she held no real animosity toward him. "Plus, word on the street is that you're dating again so good for you."

She silently cursed Sasha again even though she knew her cousin had no ill intent. "Is there a reason for this call Michael?" she asked in a sugary sweet voice she used when trying not to lose her patience. "Because it seems to me like you're saying a whole lot of nothing and my schedule is already full with enough nothingness."

"I just wanna talk," he said. "In person. Can we do lunch sometime this week? I know you said you weren't busy. Pencil me in somewhere in between that nothingness."

"Fine," she agreed, just wanting to get this "talk" over with. "Tomorrow afternoon? You can pick the place. I don't have any particular preferences."

"Just like old times. Still the same Michonne. See you tomorrow."

Michonne hung up the phone and placed it down on the counter taking deep, calming breaths before picking up André's food to bring to him.

"Thanks mommy," he said as she placed the plate in front of him.

"Eat and then finish your work okay? Mommy will be back in a minute." She kissed his forehead and walked down the hallway leading to her bedroom. She needed a moment. She wasn't sure if it was guilt or anger, eating at her, but she needed to gather herself.

As she plopped down on the edge of her bed, her mind starting drifting back to that day, five years prior. She always wished she had handled that day better. Michael may be a little selfish at times, but he wasn't a bad person and he didn't deserve her selfishly walking out on him with no explanation. She felt as if she should have been more forceful in her objections to the marriage instead of running away from her fears.

Commitment phobia, they called it.

Apparently, women like her have an intrinsic fear of the inability to commit to serious undertakings like marriage. It was either that, or she wasn't genuinely in love.

* * *

 **Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think.**

 **We got to see a little bit of a day in the life of Michonne. The next chapter will most likely be a Michonne flashback if I don't end up scrapping it altogether. It's mostly written, but I don't know if people, or even me, would rather do without it. Hopefully I make a quick decision.**


	8. Chapter Eight: The Runaway Bride

I finally got the motivation to write this. It's not entirely a flashback chapter. I decided to make it a half and half. Hope you enjoy!

* * *

 **Chapter Eight: The Runaway Bride**

~Five Years Earlier~

On the morning of her and Michael Anthony's wedding day, Michonne along with her entire wedding party were at an upscale Washington D.C hotel. A cacophony of clicking heels, doors closing and opening and women laughing filled the large, luxurious hotel suite.

Weddings were supposed to be joyous occasions.

It was the beginning of the bride and groom's happily ever after. Family had flown in from all over the country and the world to celebrate with them in some of their fanciest clothes. College friends, coworkers and a few congressmen and women would be in attendance. It was intended to be a dreamlike fairytale wedding, orchestrated by the best wedding planners in the DMV.

This was about a power-couple in the making. The envy of many.

"Hold still. I'm almost finished." Carey, the makeup artist, squinted dramatically as he added the finishing touches to her face. "You make such a beautiful bride. I almost want to cry. I can barely hold myself together hon."

She smiled tightly in response as the older Westbrook woman reentered the room, dressed in a peach two-piece pantsuit. "I think this might be one of the happiest days of my life. My baby is getting married and I must say, she made an excellent choice in a husband. Couldn't have picked a better one."

Her mother stepped into Carey's place after he glided away to fetch a box of tissues. "Smile." She lifted Michonne's chin, her eyes raking over the face almost identical to her own. Personality wise, she and her daughter couldn't be more unalike, yet the physical similarities were unavoidable. It was as if she was looking into the face of her younger self.

Michonne managed to morph her face into something she hoped, resembled a genuine smile.

"Uh uh don't touch," Carey admonished, lightly batting her hand away. "I put in work. Don't be messing up her face. You and me will fight."

Her mother held up her hands in surrender, taking a small step back. "I won't. I wouldn't want to get in any trouble with you Carey."

Michonne blew out a breath, her right leg bouncing a mile a minute. "This all happened so fast, didn't it?"

Winnie's expression softened slightly. "Nervous?"

"Yeah," Michonne stood up from her chair, feeling slightly overheated as she cupped her stomach. "You could say that." Her pregnancy wasn't very obvious as yet. The slight roundedness was only apparent when she stood stark naked in front of her large mirror, squinted her eye, and turned her torso just so.

When she found out about the pregnancy, she wanted to extend their long engagement even further, but between the insistence of her mother, Mike and Mike's mother she conceded to an earlier wedding. Another needless wait was unnecessary.

"Don't be." Her mother rubbed her shoulder, attempting to console her. "By the time today is over, you'll be Mrs. Michael Anthony and your husband will be on the way to becoming a senator and our future black governor. If your father doesn't get to it first, that is," she half-joked. Her eyes never left the ultimate prize. "You have a bright future ahead of you. You could even reconsider practicing law after you have the baby. I know you've been running away from that, but there's still a chance."

Michonne was only half-listening to the older woman's reassurances. She felt boxed in. The confining feeling that often settled on her was returning after the short months of wedding planning and ignoring the anxious sensations as the wedding day grew closer.

She loved Michael, but was she even in love with him? Would this wedding be happening if not for the baby?

She couldn't help but wonder if she was making a mistake. There was a certain finality in marriage, she disliked immensely. Sure, divorce was a possibility, but it couldn't be a good sign if it was already on her mind.

"It's so damn hot in here. All these people moving around. I need some air," she gasped, her eyes darting around the room looking for an escape.

"Air? Is it the baby?" Winnie's eyes widened, darting down to her daughter's stomach.

"No, I just need some time. Some space. I don't think I can do this. Maybe…maybe we should call this off. Postpone."

"Cold feet." Winnie nodded as if she just managed to diagnose an illness. "It happens to the best of us, but you can do this. There's no backing out now. Just take a deep breath and think positive thoughts. Go to your happy place if you have one. Think of pretty pictures or whatever artists do."

"I need to…" She needed to get out of that hotel room or she would scream. The entire environment was making her crazy. She should have never agreed to the marriage. "I'll be right back."

Winnie caught her hand, meeting her eyes with an imploring gaze. "Don't go too far. We need to get you in your dress soon. Go out on the balcony if you need air. I'll get you some water and some ice." Michonne watched as her mother retreated into the adjoining bedroom shooting orders at the bridesmaids as she went.

Michonne watched as Andrea, her maid of honor, and Sasha, a bridesmaid, stood near the balcony door sharing a laugh. It was nice to see the two women enjoying each other's company, especially with how often they seemed to clash. They remained good friends despite their stark differences.

A joyous occasion it was.

Instead of going to the balcony as instructed, she swiftly grabbed her purse and walked straight to the nearest door. The bridesmaids and fitters were too occupied with preparations to notice the exit of the bride. Once in the hallway of the hotel she walked briskly to the elevator, pressing frantically at the button for the doors to open.

Instead of pressing the button that would take her down to the lobby, she chose one floor down instead. The bell dinged, alerting her of her arrival to her desired floor and she stepped off the elevator, taking a right towards Mike's room. She had to use the walls for support. She knew he wouldn't be there as the men were supposed to make preparations in Terry, the best man's, suite. And in any case, they were most likely ready already.

"Shit." She slapped her hand against the shut door, realizing she did not have a key to his room.

As if in response to the contact of her hand, the door swung open, startling her. To her surprise, she was met with a side view of a woman boiling with visible irritation. "Fuck you! You fucking asshole," the woman spat over her shoulder, not realizing the pregnant bride of man subjected to her anger stood on the other side of the door.

When her eyes finally connected with Michonne, the two women immediately recognized each other as they were a part of the same social circle and attended school together. Michonne was also certain the woman worked with Michael.

She just couldn't quite place her name.

"Congratulations Michonne." The irate woman forced a smile, in a futile attempt to mask her anger. Her eyes flitted to Michonne's barely rounded belly so quickly, Michonne thought she imagined it. "On everything. You look very beautiful."

"Thank you." Michonne returned her own forced smile, looking past the woman to Michael, who stood at a distance with a slumped posture. There should be a spark when she saw him. Butterflies. Something? Shouldn't there?

"Can we talk?"

He approached her slowly, his gaze measured as he attempted to read her face. He never _could_ tell what was going on in her mind. "I'm not supposed to see you before the wedding. It's bad luck, remember?"

Michonne glanced down at her sweats and button-down shirt. "That only counts if I'm wearing the wedding dress. I'm wearing sweats."

"Missed me?" He wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her into his embrace. She was hyperaware of the woman retreating down the hall behind her.

Why couldn't she remember her name?

"I just came to…I don't know." Michonne glanced back toward the hallway where the woman disappeared. "What was that about?"

"Work always seems to follow me. Even on my wedding day. Busy men and all that." He lifted her chin, trying to regain her complete attention. "Nothing to worry about. I'm putting all that aside until after our honeymoon."

Instead of responding, she stepped out of his embrace strolling further into the hotel room. Her eyes scanned her surroundings.

"Shouldn't you be getting ready? With how long it takes you to get dressed on a regular day, you're gonna end up late for your own wedding."

"I will." She wondered if she was trying to convince herself of her commitment rather than assure him of her punctuality. She looked back at him, searching his face. For what? She didn't know. Or maybe she did and she couldn't admit it to herself.

"Well you should head back to the suite." He followed after her. "Winnie know you're gone? She'll be running around like a headless chicken if anything doesn't go exactly as planned. That woman thrives on perfection."

"I told her I needed some air."

He chuckled. "She can be more than a little overbearing." He gave her a once over as he adjusted the cuffs on his crisp white shirt. "You should really get back though. I'm meeting the guys in the lobby soon to head on over to the church. You ladies should be leaving soon too."

"Go ahead." She sat down on the edge of his bed, tossing her purse to the side as his eyes met her deep brown unwavering gaze, identical to that of the 'overbearing' woman two floors away. "I think I just need a minute."

"You okay?"

Michonne shrugged, the pressure beginning to settle. "I really don't know."

"You're not getting cold feet, are you?"

She lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. "They say it's _normal_ to feel a little anxious. We've been together for years. We're meant to be and this is what everybody wants, isn't it?"

"Yeah. Isn't this what you want?"

She said nothing for a moment and tears welled in her eyes despite her trying to hold everything together. "I don't know. Maybe we should postpone or just get out of here. Just the two of us." She rubbed her eyes, willing the tears not to fall. The desperation was beginning to settle. "We could elope."

"Of course we're ready for this." Mike sat beside her, helping her to a sitting position. "Come on. I'll take you back up. I think what you really need right now is Winnie. If anybody can get your head right, it's her. It's probably all those pregnancy hormones that have you all over the place."

"Mike." She held up a hand. Talking was pointless if he wouldn't listen. "I can take myself back. I just needed a little time to myself. I'll go back in a minute, you go ahead. They guys are waiting."

"Hormones." Much like her mother earlier, he nodded his head as if that was the obvious answer. He gave her a quick kiss on the lips, grabbing his tuxedo jacket. "See you later."

Michonne spent close to fifteen minutes in the soft pillowy bed staring at the ceiling. It was reminiscent of her childhood when she would sneak away to the guest room with the wide windows at the far side of their house. The room was completely white, right down to the plush carpet, and the mirrors and windows made it almost blindingly bright.

She would imagine she was floating on clouds somewhere in the sky as birds and planes passed her by.

She liked the idea of nobody knowing where she was. When she heard her mother's voice calling, she would slip under the fluffy blankets and remain as still as can be, hoping her mother wouldn't discover her and take her away for Saturday hair washing and deep conditioning.

It was during that moment of quiet and peace and meditation that she ultimately made the decision that she should have been brave enough to voice months before the extravagant affair.

In retrospect, she knew she should have been firmer with Michael. She shouldn't have let him walk out of that hotel room without clearly voicing exactly how she felt. It was cowardice, she supposed. Perhaps a fear of confrontation. A fear of letting everyone down.

A fear of committing.

A half hour later, while she stood at a ticket counter, purchasing a one-way ticket to Atlanta, Georgia, Winnie Westbrook was searching the entirety of the hotel for the missing bride while Michael Anthony approached the front steps of the church, chatting with his best man, blissfully unaware of his missing bride and the wedding and honeymoon in the Pacific Islands that wouldn't be.

They would have to lie to the guests, explaining a nonexistent pregnancy related illness. There would be fallouts and angry mother-in-laws. In the end, André would be the only good to come from Michael Anthony and Michonne Westbrook's relationship.

Michonne ignored her frantically buzzing phone as she admired the passing landscapes from the window of her first-class carriage. She supposed, it was just in her nature to run away from her fears. First law school graduation and now her own marriage.

* * *

 **~Present Day~**

"Hey, I'm gonna have to take a rain check on lunch today. Something… uh something came up."

"That's fine Michael. Some other time then." She lifted her sunglasses to the top of her head as she entered her car.

"So sorry about that. I hope you weren't already on your way into DC."

"It's cool and I wasn't. You know, there'd be no need for sorry if you would just come out and tell me what you need to say. The fact that you won't is very worrying. Whatever you have to say better live up to all this anticipation you've been building."

"It's nothing bad," he said with a heavy sigh. "Honestly? It's about closure, I guess."

She stared unblinkingly out of the windscreen of her car. "O-kay." How else could she respond? They hadn't been together in years and she thought the split was somewhat amicable excluding the wedding fallout, a nasty confrontation with his mother and the fact that he recently suggested getting back together. What more closure did he need?

"Don't forget my Mom is picking up André from school today. She'll have him home after an early dinner." Mrs. Anthony avoided direct communication with Michonne whenever she could.

"I didn't forget." Forgetting was usually left to him.

After she hung up with Michael, she made a quick call to Rick letting him know to expect her within the hour.

When she stepped out into the crisp spring day, she smiled up at the sky. There was the reason why spring was her favorite season of the year. The farm was slowly moving out of the dullness of winter and into an airy, blossoming picture of perfection. She looked forward to seeing the appearance once the animals were out grazing and everything was in bloom.

"Hel-lo beautiful" Rick called as he rounded the corner that led to the barn. "What brings you here on this fine day?"

"I guess I missed my favorite cowboy."

"Good." His lips met hers in a slow deep kiss. "He likes having you around."

Her stomach fluttered and she felt a pang of emotion in her chest and responded with an uncharacteristically nervous smile.

 _I like being around him too. I hope this doesn't end with broken hearts. No doubt it would be my fault._

"Good to know." She smiled as he wrapped an arm around her waist. "It's so beautiful here. I love springtime. It's a good thing I brought my things so I can paint."

"Paint you say?" He raised a brow, pulling he body flush against his. "Anything in mind?"

"I'm sure I'll come up with something. Lots of inspiration around here."

"You know, I hear in art school, people pose nude for drawing classes. If you need a subject to sketch…" He wiggled his eyebrows teasingly. "I always secretly wanted to be a model."

They burst into laughter as they approached the house, wrapped around each other. "I might take you up on that offer. Since you offered that is."

"You gonna draw me like your French girls?" he teased, tossing his coat on the coat rack and helping her out of hers.

"No, I'll draw you like my manly sheriffs."

"Let's hope that's not plural. I don't know how I'll feel being one of many law enforcement models."

She gave him a lascivious wink. "Never."

"Let me get rehydrated before I start stripping off my clothes for art."

She followed him into the familiar kitchen, taking in what looked like about a dozen cupcakes immaculately placed on a stand on the countertop. "Cupcakes?"

"For Carl. It's from his friend from school. His mom baked 'em. His birthday is next week and they'll be outta town so…"

"That's really nice of his friend's Mom," she said leaning against the counter. "Speaking of his upcoming birthday, what do you have planned? Are we still getting that puppy?"

He chuckled, pulling her into his arms. "We."

"Well you – I mean –"

He silenced her with a kiss, not wanting her to take anything back. He liked the sound of 'we'. "No explanation needed."

"What are you up to today?" she asked, changing the subject to something less complicated.

"I've got some arts and crafts of my own to do." He let go of her, opening the fridge to search for a bottle of water. "I'm repainting Carl's new room, so we're gonna have to put off the naked posing for a while. This house needs some work still, so it's a good thing it's getting warmer outside."

"Who says you can't pose while you paint?"

"You're just full of good ideas, aren't you?" He gulped back the rest of his water and gave her a light pat on her behind as he walked passed her. "Get your stuff. We'll make it a paint date. I already primed the walls."

There was something about him that felt right. She couldn't quite describe it.

Their over two-month relationship was progressing beautifully. Whenever they were together, he made her feel dizzy and winded. It was as if her world turned upside down and inside out whenever he was in close proximity. She didn't know what to make of it.

It was almost as if he held some kind of power over her mind and body, sending her into a whirlwind with his mere presence.

She smiled as she listened to his heavy booted feet climbing the stairs leading to the upstairs bedrooms. The house had a beautiful vintage look that had the potential to be very stunning with the right amount of work. The windows needed replacing, most rooms required paint jobs and better wallpaper, and most of their things hadn't been unpacked from the boxes when they moved from Georgia.

A sense of calm washed over her as she brought her easel, sketchbook and other supplies into the house.

"Rick?" She climbed the stairs following the sound of a steady beat against wood. She paused in the doorway where the noise was coming from, taking in his fit, form as he took apart the remnants of what looked like it used to be a bunk bed.

The house was quite large with its wraparound porch and five bedrooms. Rick had slowly been making repairs in order to make him and his son feel more at home in their new house.

"Fully clothed," she tsked. "How disappointing."

He turned to face her as she began to settle into a place in the corner. "I could say the same."

She strolled further into the room. "Let's make a deal then."

Rick put down the hammer prowling toward her with a devilish grin. "What kind of deal you talkin'?"

"For every wall you paint, something comes off," she proposed. "That doesn't include shoes."

"There's only four walls in here."

"Well then you better choose wisely, cowboy."

"I need some clarification on the rules," he said, hooking his arm around her waist and pulling her flush against him. "Whose clothes are coming off in this game of strip paint?"

"Both, but the other one's choice."

"You got yourself a deal ma'am."

It was immensely difficult for Michonne to focus on the easel in front of her with Rick's constant humming and suggestive winks.

Although their deal was for the removal of one article of clothing per painted wall, they both ended up completely naked before he had even finished the second. Her easel and paint were thrown haphazardly to the side and they frantically undressed each other, their clothes flying in every direction.

They ended up on the small twin mattress that was originally part of the disassembled bunk bed that belonged to the family that lived there before. Michonne sat astride Rick, who held on to her hips with a firm, but gentle grip as he trusted his hips up to meet her every downward movement.

Grunts and moans filled the room as Michonne leaned forward, burying her face against his neck as he quickened their pace.

"Fuck," he mumbled as soft cries of pleasure escaped her lips and she grew closer to the edge, the pit of her stomach clenching as pleasure racked through her body.

She felt the tingles from her toes up as he lifted her as if she weighed nothing, and brought her back down again with deep strokes. Her nails dug into his forearms as he flipped them over, his thrust coming shorter and quicker as low guttural groans escaped him as he neared his own release, warm spurts filling her.

His breathing was ragged as he pulled her lips to his, still hovering over her in the same position.

The sound of the front door slamming shut caused both of them to freeze, their eyes locked in panic. Michonne's heart hammered in her chest as if she was a teenager about to get caught doing something she shouldn't.

"Dad, I'm home!" Michonne's heart skipped a beat as her eyes darted to the open bedroom door, then to the floor where their clothes were strewn around the room, and finally down to where she was still joined with Rick.

"Shit that's Carl," Rick groaned in frustration at his son's terrible timing, praying his hunger would distract him enough so he would stay downstairs and bide them some time.

 _Why now? Where the hell did all the time go?_

* * *

 **Thanks for reading. Please let me know what you think in your awesome reviews. I hope this was at least enjoyable.**

 **Also, be sure to check out 'The Ambassador's Daughter' if you read it. It was also updated today.**


	9. Chapter Nine: The Son

Thanks for all the beautiful reviews of the last chapter. I enjoyed reading your thoughts. They really motivated and inspired me to get this one out. I hope you all enjoy!

* * *

 **Chapter Nine: The Son**

Carl was at the front door with his friend's Mom on the other side when Rick got downstairs. He had a much easier time finding and pulling on his clothes than Michonne did. In their scurry to find her misplaced bra, they somehow managed to get a considerable amount of paint on her jeans.

"Thanks Jessie!" Rick called to Ron and Sam Anderson's mother with a quick wave as he entered the foyer. He was beginning to regret agreeing to carpooling since it meant unexpected and potentially traumatizing (for both the new couple and Carl) interruptions from his son. He'd have to learn to keep better track of time in the future if he wanted to avoid getting caught in the middle of the act.

 _The future._

"It's no problem," she said, waving him off. She always was a little too talkative and over-friendly for Rick's liking, but he figured that was the way of his new town. After Rick and Carl moved in she stopped by with a pie (Carl had remarked it was too dry for his liking after she was gone) and introduced herself as a divorcee who lived about five minutes away. She knew the late owners of the farm and stopped by to welcome the town's new additions. "You got them in the morning, which was a great help."

"Yeah and this is a great help too." He prayed this would give Michonne enough time to dress and get back downstairs. "Carl really enjoys spending time with Ron and Sam too." He said trying to rope the boy back into the conversation and keep his attention away from upstairs.

"The boys feel the same. I know how busy you get in the afternoons and some mornings I am in no shape for driving after getting the boys ready. It's been a little hard with Pete gone and I'm sure it's the same for you being a single Dad and all."

"Michonne!" Carl happily exclaimed.

So much for the conversation holding his attention.

Rick turned to find her strolling towards them fully dressed, wearing her jeans with its new accents of green paint.

"Hey, soon to be birthday boy." She opened her arms for a hug, which he happily returned. "Hi there," she greeted Jessie Anderson politely.

"Oh, I didn't realize you had company," Jessie said, shifting awkwardly on her feet as she peered into the house to see Michonne. "Hi, I'm Jessie. We carpool. Carl goes to school with my kids. Speaking of which, I should head back to the car before a fight breaks out. Boys, you know?"

"I have a son myself," Michonne laughed.

"Yeah, they're a handful, but I love kids. Well I'll see you and Carl tomorrow morning when you stop by Rick. We'll catch up. I've got to go get started on dinner. Taco night." She gave Rick a quick wave as she turned to leave. "Nice meeting you," Jessie called over her shoulder to the woman, whose name she never bothered to ask.

"Cupcake lady?" Michonne guessed as she watched the somewhat dismissive woman retreat. Michonne noticed the way she was looking at Rick, but decided it wasn't worth tackling. "She seems…nice."

"What are you doing here?" Carl asked, moving on to more pressing matters without allowing his Dad to respond to Michonne's remark. "André here too?"

"And here I thought all the happiness was because you get to see me again," Michonne said, dramatically placing her hands on her hips as if she was about to tell him off for his offence.

"I am!"

"No, André's not here sadly. He's having dinner with his grandparents, so you're stuck with me." She playfully nudged his shoulder. "I was actually helping your Dad with some redecorating. Your new room is almost fully painted and soon to be ready for living. Hopefully by the time your birthday comes around."

"Awesome." He dropped his backpack on the floor in a corner in the foyer on his way to the kitchen. "So, what are we eating? I'm hungry."

Michonne and Rick exchanged a look, realizing that lunch was the last thing on either of their minds. He had meant to get something prepared, but Michonne's nudity distracted him to the point of getting almost nothing done.

"How about we get out of here," Rick suggested, ever the problem solver. "Remember that place we went to with the great food?"

"With the guy with the funny haircut that talks all weird," Carl asked, perking up at the thought of going back to the restaurant he gave a surprising seal of approval. When they discovered the restaurant, his overactive nine-year old imagination had him convinced that the restaurant was a result of an alien invasion and the employees were from another planet.

"The people of Earth do not sound like that," he had informed his father with a knowing look. Their waiter's haircut was also very questionable. Rick humored him and played along with the outlandish idea mentally attributing it to too much video games and tv.

Clearly aliens in disguise.

Michonne gave Rick a disapproving look at the suggestion even though she really did enjoy that place when he took her. The food was so dissimilar to its odd exterior. "My pants are covered in paint and not in a fashionable way either." She blamed him entirely for that even though it was she who missed catching it when he threw it across the room to her. Instead of landing in waiting hands it billowed out, landing in the roller tray with a soft thud. Michonne had worn a look of utter despair as her favorite jeans were destroyed.

"You'll fit right in, then," he said of the unconventional eatery.

"Funny," she said, sarcastically. "Pizza still delivers out here in the middle of nowhere right?"

"Of course, they do. This is the best kind of middle o' nowhere you will find. We try to keep up with the rest of the world you know."

"I'll order it!" Carl declared, already dialing the number that was clearly familiar to him. "What toppings do you want?"

"Black olives."

"Ew. Why?" Carl screwed up his nose. "Pepperoni is the best."

"Don't tell me you're one of those people that like fruit on your pizza," Rick said, his eyes wide with faux horror as if scandalized at the very thought.

"Not my favorite topping, but it's not too horrible."

"Good answer." He clutched his chest in relief eliciting laughs from Michonne and Carl at his theatrics. "We were about to cut off all ties and leave the state."

"Don't hate on pineapple pizza. It happens to be my best friend's favorite."

"Disown her," Rick said in a deadpan voice.

"And what do you like, Mr. Judgmental?"

"Sausage, mushrooms, pepperoni, onions, extra cheese, you know, anything reasonable? Things that actually belong on top of a tomato sauce and cheese covered bread."

"Hi Paul! It's Carl Grimes again," Carl said into the receiver as he began rattling of their order.

"Paul?" Michonne mouthed at Rick with a teasing grin. His son was on first name basis with the employees at the pizza place. Evidently, they were frequent customers. Rick shrugged, his face growing slightly red.

"Thirty minutes," Carl declared as he hung up. "I'll get started on my homework while we wait. I have to beat Michonne in that Monopoly game before she leaves."

Rick chuckled at the memory of their snow day board games, that Carl probably wouldn't have touched if it wasn't for the power outage. Board games were ancient artifacts in his eyes. Now he wanted to bring them out again, despite having all the technology his heart desired. "Not possible, if she doesn't stop cheating."

"I do not!"

"You're just saying that because you're so bad at it Dad."

She turned to Rick after Carl bounded out of the kitchen in search for his abandoned backpack. "So, I think maybe it's time we tell the kids about you and me." She poked his chest with her index finger.

"I was thinking the same thing actually. Best to just let it be known."

"Great minds." She was beaming as she placed a quick chaste kiss on his lips. "Hopefully he takes it well."

Rick wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her against his chest for another more thorough kiss. "I don't see why he wouldn't."

Their lips moved slowly, sensually together and Rick half expected they would finish where they left off earlier, with the way Michonne's fingers were tugging at his hair as she wrapped herself around him.

"Dad have you seen my –"

The pair quickly broke away from each other, deep blushed immediately filling their faces. "Carl. Hey."

Carl regarded the sheepish adults in front of him with cautious eyes. "What were you just doing?"

They skillfully escaped one close call only to be caught in another. "We…were…"

His eyes bounced between them as he waited for an answer he already knew. "Were you kissing?"

"Uh, yeah. We were." Rick reached out, pulling a wide-eyed Michonne into his side. He decided to be brave under his son's probing eyes.

"So, she's your girlfriend now?" He asked about the woman who would bring profound change to both he and his father's lives.

"Yes."

He furrowed his brow, twisting his lips as if in thought. "Okay. Sounds cool to me." He took the news in stride seemingly pleased with the new revelation. There was more on his mind, but he made a mental note to talk about it with his Dad or aunt later. There were more pressing matters. "Have you seen my backpack?"

"By the table in the foyer," Michonne answered for Rick, still surprised at how well Carl was taking it.

"Thanks!"

"No questions?" She exchanged a glance with Rick, who simply shrugged his shoulders.

"I'll talk to him later."

The rest afternoon continued without much fanfare. The pizzas arrived and Carl wasted no time in teasing Michonne about the olives. She eventually managed to get him to try some and to his surprise, he didn't completely hate it. Rick remarked that he may have found a secret weapon to any picky eating habits Carl may have.

"Bye Michonne." Carl gave her a hug as she shrugged into her coat at the door. "Tell André I said hi too."

"I will." She hugged Rick as well, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek to keep things chaste around Carl. "Bye."

"I'm glad she came," Carl said to his father as they watched her walk to her car. She waved one more time at the father and son before entering. "I think she's…she's really nice. I like her and I…I'm really glad she likes you." With that, the boy turned away from his father, strolling into the house.

Rick glanced toward his retreating son, furrowing his brow. The boy's tone gave the impression that it was more than just approval. There was a longing in his voice that Rick half believed he imagined. He gave Michonne's retreating one final wave that she probably wouldn't see before moving to join his son in the house.

Michonne arrived at her apartment minutes before the woman who was almost her mother-in-law arrived at her door with her son. "Hey Pattie."

"Michonne." Patricia Anthony smiled politely as she visibly shuddered at the little dog bouncing near Michonne's feet as he tried to get to André. "Thanks for allowing André to have dinner with us this evening. We love having him over."

Michonne was unsure as to why the woman thanked her as if she were granting them a tremendous favor by allowing André to have dinner with them. They were his grandparents after all and she certainly believed they had a right to spend time with him. "He loves spending time with his grandparents too."

On the other hand, Pattie's usual poorly-hidden contempt was less visible which pleased her. Although that may have been because of André's proximity. Mrs. Anthony adored her grandson while she had yet to forgive his mother for the embarrassment she put their family through. On the other hand, a small part of her felt relieved that her son may have dodged a bullet when he was stood up by his fickle fiancée.

She had an embarrassing shouting match with Winnie Westbrook, revealed herself as the power-hungry overzealous control freak who people didn't seem to see for what she was. She never did like the woman and their acquaintance was simply due to their social circles and the friendship between their children. It was then that thoughts of the future began to brew. The thought of Michael and Michonne, both completing law degrees, together made perfect sense.

At the time, it appeared as if they couldn't have made a better, but life is full of unexpected changes and there were plenty of other eligible women to build a family with.

"Just getting in?" She glanced at Michonne's jacket and booted feet, her voice detached and expression even.

"Yeah, I had a thing."

"Hmm." The tight smile returned as she got her fill of the young woman. "Well, have a good night. I have to head back home. We had some guests over, but I wanted to get little André back on time."

"Night Pattie." Michonne shut the door, turning to André who was busy rolling around with Snoopy. "And how was your day Mister?"

"It was fun." He giggled as Snoopy licked his ear. "Grandma Pattie made lots of yummy food. And chocolate cake."

"I'm glad you had fun sweetie." She reached out, scratching Snoopy behind his ear, to calm his excitement at seeing his little friend. "Bath then bed time."

Once André was dressed and tucked into bed, Michonne read him his nightly bedtime story. This story in particular was about an unusual child, born with a full set of teeth. André listened intently through his drowsy haze as his mother read about the boy and the village of happiness discovered by the gifted boy.

"Mommy?" André asked through a yawn, when she finished the story.

She closed the book, placing it at his bedside as she fixed his covers around her inquisitive child. "Yes, my little Chou?"

"Am I handsome?" He flashed a heavy-eyed grin.

She couldn't help but smile at the question. She had found, through the four years of being a mother, that children had the most interesting minds. She couldn't wait to hear the fascinating reasoning behind his question. "Of course, you are. The handsomest boy in the world. Why do you ask?"

"Daddy's friend said I was very, very handsome and I look just like him. Do I look like him?"

"Well it's true. You are handsome and I think you look like a combination of both me and your father." She playfully grabbed his nose. "You have a nose like your Dad, but eyes like mine. Your ears are like his, but your smile is all me."

André giggled, tugging at the ear she tugged during her demonstration of his beautiful mixture of features.

"So, your Dad was at dinner too?"

"Yes, with Miss Julie."

"Well then." This gave Michonne some pause, considering Mike reminded her that his mother would have André for dinner during their call, but made no mention of being there himself. "And who's Miss Julie?"

"Daddy's friend," he said, as if they went over this before. "She likes kissing him on the lips like Aunty Sasha and Uncle Bob. I think she likes him a lot."

Michonne didn't know how to respond, so she opted for a quick kiss on his forehead. "Alright. Goodnight my little prince."

Julie must have been the someone he started seeing. Perhaps it _was_ getting serious since she was meeting his family already. In any case, she considered it good news if it meant they could finally begin to put their past behind them and move forward as individuals.

* * *

 **~TFW~**

Sunday Dinner's at the Westbrook house was always a semi-extravagant affair. Michonne and Winnie spent the afternoon cooking with their personal chef. Winnie usually tried to limit her interaction with the help, but cooking had always been a passion of hers and she enjoyed any opportunity to say she created something with her own hands. She always struggled to find a balance between career woman and housewife and in the end, opted for pretenses on the house wife front. Being a career woman, the brains behind her husband's success and a perfect mother and wife was a challenging but feasible combination to juggle.

She'd do for herself what she did for him, but she found that people admire politically ambitious men more than women. Years of studying the human mind and behavior taught her that much.

Instead, she would continue to enjoy being the woman everyone admires.

"We're having some extra guests over tonight, sweetheart," she said as they set the large dining room table. "Congressman Joseph and his family will be joining us along with Sasha, Bob and your father's sister and her husband."

Michonne, lost in her own thoughts, managed to give her usual go-to answer to whatever her mother was suggesting. "Sounds great."

"Speaking of guests, did you friend say when he can come by and be ours?" she asked in a sugary sweet voice. "What did you say his name was again?"

"Rick."

"Try to keep the placements neater, darling." Winnie moved to the placement her daughter set out, adjusting the utensils so they were evenly spaced to her own liking. "Short for Richard? Does he have a last name?"

"You're not doing a background check on him Mom," Michonne said with finality. Winnie wasn't fooling her with that line of questioning. Michonne knew it pained her to not have every last detail of the new relationship at her fingertips, or on the other end of the phone. With Michael, their closeness allowed for Winnie to closely monitor their lives for the assurance that they were on the right track.

"What?" her mother asked innocently. "I just want to know him better if he's an important part of your life. He is, isn't he?"

"I mean, yeah. He's a great guy. I like him a lot."

Winnie tapped her chin, studying her daughter with appraising eyes. "What's he doing on Sunday after next? Is he busy on that day too?"

"I don't know, Mom. I don't have his days scheduled out. I already told you this is relatively new. I'll have to ask."

"Invite him to dinner," she said. "See if he's available to meet your family. That will tell you a lot about him. If he's serious about you and this relationship of yours, he'll meet your family. If not, then what's the point? You need stability."

At that point, she knew there was no placating Winnie until Rick was seated at her table where she could effectively grill and decipher the man. She would never deem him worthy otherwise. And even if he did make it to her table, worthiness was not a guarantee. Rick was not from a political or prominent family of high social status, so there was no automatic pass for him, like with Michael.

Rick would have to work for Winnie's acceptance.

"I just want you to be happy, baby. I want you to get everything you deserve out of this life because it doesn't always happen that way for women like us." She took her daughters face in her hands meeting her eyes with an imploring gaze. "When you have something good, you shouldn't let it slip through your fingers. You were born in a position that should be able to bring you happiness and success. I made sure of that. You're lucky I'm such a good mother. I worked hard _for_ you."

Her usual defense.

"Mom."

"Just bring him over," she pleaded. Her patience would surely wear thin if her daughter didn't agree, then it would be on to the next control tactic. Attack. "For me? Put your mother's mind to rest."

As a child, Michonne saw her mother as someone to live up to. The outside world knew her as a superwoman, someone perfect in every way imaginable, but that wasn't the woman Michonne always saw. Winnie displayed a loving personality every now and then, but her unpredictable mood swings and constant need for complete control often marred the facade.

"I'll ask Rick if he's free," she said finally, always one to please. "I'm sure he'll be more than happy to meet you. We'll figure out a day, but I'm not promising two Sundays from now."

She tried to put her foot down every once in a while. Simply for her own sanity.

* * *

 **Thanks for reading! So, Rick meeting Mama Westbrook and Mike is dating again. Let's see where this all goes.**

 **Review and let me know what you think!**


	10. Chapter Ten: The Birthday Boy

**Chapter Ten: The Birthday Boy**

The next time they were all together it was the morning of Carl's birthday.

Rick, Michonne and their sons visited an animal shelter outside Alexandria. Rick initially planned on merely purchasing a dog from a pet store, but Michonne enlightened him on why adopting was the surest way to go. They would be saving a life and giving a dog a second chance at a family as she did with her own pet.

"I definitely want this one," Carl called to his father as he scratched the the vivacious midnight colored Labrador mix behind his ear. "I love him."

"Me too," André agreed moving to the other side of the happy dog, to get his share of petting in.

The volunteer leading their tour of the kennel presented them a leash and collar and allowed them time to spend with their potential future pet when Carl showed interest in one particular dog. He told them it would help for them to see if he was a good fit for their family. It filled Rick with a certain longing when they were referred to as a family. Especially when Michonne simply smiled, without correcting Gareth, the shelter's overly friendly adoption representative.

Carl and André took an immediate liking to the seven-month-old Bear as _he_ walked —more like ran — _them_ around outside the shelter.

"You sure?" Rick asked, turning his attention to the boys. "There are more you can try out. Take 'em for a walk. See if you like 'em."

"I'm sure. _This_ is the one Dad," Carl declared as the floppy eared dog bounced around, wagging his tail, enjoying the attention from his two new friends.

"He _is_ pretty cute," Michonne agreed as she linked her arm with Rick's. Bear's dark brown eyes found the pair as if he knew he was the topic of the conversation. "Friendly little guy too. _I_ like him."

Rick glanced at the woman on his arm smiling at how lucky he was. "Well it sounds like we have a consensus. Welcome to the family Bear."

Gareth had them complete the necessary paper work and suggested they try fostering first as a trial run and if they took a liking to the dog, they can make the necessary steps to a full adoption. Their application would have to be reviewed and pet rescue workers will need to do a home visit to ensure Bear's long-term safety.

By the end of the short application process Rick was itching to leave the animal shelter and chatty Gareth behind. Somewhere in their discussion of the appropriate care and safety measures for Bear, Gareth brought up his distaste for animal meat, the tragic death of his childhood pet goldfish and gave a lengthy diatribe about his ex-girlfriend's tumultuous past as an exotic animal smuggler.

He was nearing the point of oversharing.

"So, I'll see you all and Bear in about a week, if all goes well," Gareth said, clapping his hands together as his eyes bounced between the four of them and the dog. "Bear is a wonderful dog, I'm sure you'll love him, but in case it doesn't work out we have many others in need of a good home. So, don't hesitate to let us know how you feel. We're here to help you complete your family with a perfect new addition."

"We'll call if we have any questions," Michonne assured him, as they began inching away. She chose her words carefully, worried that she may inspire another unwanted anecdote from the man who's eyes she thought seemed almost slightly crazed. Though hearing his graphic description of poaching didn't help in forming an overall favorable view of him.

"And you said you have lots of space for him to run around, so I'm sure he'll love that."

"Yeah, it's a huge farm, there' lots of space." Rick gave him a small wave, placing his hand on the small of Michonne's back as he began ushering her and the boys to the exit.

"Great! Well you're all good to go. It was so nice helping you select your new addition. Bye family!"

"Bye Gareth!" Carl and André waved as they led Bear past Rick who was still waving at the man.

"He's like Apple store employee friendly but with a hint of overzealous barista," Michonne laughed, once they were out of earshot. "The enthusiasm is nice though. But I feel kind of bad his ex-girlfriend scammed his family like that. I didn't need _all_ the gory details, but poor guy."

Rick shrugged noncommittally. "He talks too much."

"Sweet! I finally got a dog." Carl held up his hand and André jumped to slap his palm against the older boy's hand to complete their high-five.

"Yay! You can bring him over to our house to play with Snoopy." André looked up to his mother as they approached the car with their new four-legged friend in tow and she nodded her head in affirmation of his statement.

Laughter and animated chatter from the backseat filled the car on the drive back to the farm.

"How's the new guy doing so far?" Michonne asked, referring to his new farm hand. "He warmed up to you yet?"

"Daryl's actually alright. Still doesn't say much though. He should still be there when we get home."

"You should invite him to dinner. And you're not exactly a chatterbox yourself," she pointed out with a wink. "Except when you're with me."

"Yeah, but he grunts and he mumbles," Rick countered in his own defense. "I at least use full sentences and don't over talk like Jerry back there."

"It's Gareth." The pair shared a laugh at Daryl and Gareth's speaking habits and Rick proceeded to share the status of his home improvement projects. When they arrived at the farm, the children and Bear, were practically bouncing with excitement.

"Come on, I'll show you the horses!" Carl told André as they led Bear out of the car. "Bear should meet them too. Then I'll give you both a real tour. My new room is awesome!"

Rick smiled as the two boys and the dog ran off toward the barn. "Don't stay over there too long," Rick called at them, as he and Michonne strolled toward the house. Carl had always wanted to a sibling and having André around brought out the big brotherly tendency in him.

"Daryl." Rick waved as the shaggy-haired man emerged from around the corner, crates in hand.

"Hey," he greeted, with a nod of acknowledgement in Michonne's direction.

"How's it going with the barn?"

"Alright," he shrugged. "Should be finished Monday."

"Great. Headed out soon?"

Daryl nodded, shifting his hair from his face. "My brother's in town for the weekend. Gotta make sure he doesn't trash my place."

"Alright, well see you Monday."

Daryl's response was barely audible as he returned to his task, leaving Rick and Michonne to their own devices. "He doesn't mumble that much. You're exaggerating," she whispered conspiratorially as they walked toward the house.

"How was any of that _not_ considered mumbling?" He pointed his thumb in the man's direction, not caring if he was looking or not.

"Maybe he's just shy. Some people take long before they get comfortable around new people. The two of you might be good friends by the end of the month for all you know," she suggested with a shrug as they entered the kitchen. "Carl seems to be enjoying his birthday so far." She was happy when Michael was more than agreeable to her keeping André for the weekend. "Why was he so against a party?"

"Birthdays were his mama's thing," Rick said, as he opened the fridge to take out the ingredients for their small familial celebration. "Plus, he's been having a tough time making friends around here. He doesn't tell me much, but there's some kind of rivalry between him and one of the Anderson boys."

"Jessie's kids?" She almost called her cupcake lady again.

"Yeah. The older boy can be a little…rough. Carl won't admit it though, but a father knows these things."

"Hmm. I thought they were friends." She leaned against the counter watching as he neatly lined everything out the way she usually did. "You're a fast learner Mr. Grimes. You over there lookin' like a pro."

"I am," he responded with a smirk. "So, prepare to be impressed. This will be mind-blowing. You might never want to cook again."

"I'd hold off on telling Carl until after he tastes it. I still don't think he completely trusts you to not accidentally poison him," she laughed, thinking of the boy's declarations of a complete lack of trust in his father's developing cooking skills.

He spun around, pulling her to him. "Good thing I have somebody he trusts in my corner."

"Do you?"

"Mmhmm." His lips moved against hers in a deep slow kiss as he leaned against the countertop with his arms hanging around her waist.

"You trying to get us caught again?" she asked, in a breathless voice when they pulled away for air and his lips moved to her neck. "I feel like we end up like this whenever we get in a kitchen."

Rick met her eyes and his were filled with mischief. "Well, it's not like they don't already know. We're two people who really, really like each other. It's a given."

Explaining their relationship to André was a lot different than with telling an older child like Carl. Michonne scoured the internet in search of advice on how to explain dating to children, particularly after a divorce. Things with Rick were getting serious and their relationship certainly wasn't casual, but the last thing she wanted to do was confuse him, so she decided to keep it simple and share more as things progressed.

He noticed how she averted his gaze as she slipped out of his arms, returning to their task. "Yeah…but we really should focus on actually starting to cook. We'll have our fun later. When's your sister-in-law getting here?"

"In a couple of hours."

"She knows, right? Me being here won't be weird or anything?" she asked popping a cherry tomato in her mouth.

"She knows and she'll be expecting to see you here. No trying to escape."

"Just making sure." She gave him a quick peck on the lips before redirecting him once gain to the task at hand.

As they worked side by side, he thought of Carol and her seemingly positive reaction to the news that he was dating again and he would be introducing her to his girlfriend. It felt like an odd word to use since it didn't accurately define Michonne in his mind, however it was the closest he could think of to verbalize their relationship to another.

Carol loved her sister, but even she knew that Lori was in the wrong and she held no ill will for neither her adopted sister nor her brother-in-law after their falling out. She didn't think it was her place to pass judgement on the messy intimate dealing of their lives.

He remembered the day Lori first left and the conflicting emotions that plagued him. It wasn't long after Carl's eighth birthday party.

* * *

…

That particular day was the first time he thoroughly reflected on the irreparable state of his marriage. He had arrived home to find her in their living room seated in her favorite Lawson chair. She stared blankly at the wall, giving no acknowledgement of his presence.

That was how they operated in their home.

He remembered the flat emotionless voice she spoke in when she broke their most recent 24-hour stretch of silence. "This isn't working, is it? I think we're done."

He frustratingly ran a hand through his dark curls when he finally took in the packed suitcases by the stairs. "So, what? You're leaving?"

"You know, you don't even look at me anymore." Her eyes shifted to meet his. "You can't. We're strangers in our own home because you just _can't_ let go of what happened."

"And where're you going?" he asked, ignoring her rant of self-pity. The problems between them were no fault of his and he to allow to her the satisfaction that would come from guilt on his part.

Lori shut her eyes, her own frustration was building. "I just need some time away."

Rick stared impassively at the woman he was once able to call his wife without feelings of bitterness and disdain. He should have felt something upon seeing her ready to walk away from him, but instead he felt almost relieved. "Fine. Go, but just know you're not taking Carl anywhere."

"He's still at my sister's."

"I'll pick him up later."

"Rick — " Lori began, the pain she had so skillfully hid was clear in her voice.

"Enjoy your time off." He didn't wait for a response from her. He spun on his heel, bypassing her bags as he ascended the stairs, drowning out her pleas for him to listen.

He had grown tired of listening.

When he had reemerged from their considerably barer bedroom an hour later that day, she was gone. Simply removed from his life after years together. He was surprised by the relief that overtook him.

As he drove to her Carol's house, he found himself reflecting on the past year of his marriage. As a husband and father, he tried his best to do everything right, but somehow it wasn't enough. While he was playing perfect family, his wife had her eyes set elsewhere, namely on his friend and coworker.

Following his discovery of the affair, there were tears, pleas for forgiveness and weak explanations. He verbally expressed forgiveness, but his actions said different.

Rick grimes profoundly resented his wife.

He resented her and refused to admit it to himself. He wanted to forgive her, especially one she revealed she was expecting their second child, but forgiveness isn't an emotion a person can force. Every time he saw her, he thought of them together.

He thought of their betrayal.

So, he just stopped thinking.

They moved through their like cold distant strangers holding routine mundane conversations when necessary while studiously averting their eyes from one another. While resentment kept his eyes and mind away, guilt kept her eyes trained to the floor.

When Lori ultimately miscarried, they stopped speaking as well.

He remembered seeing the pity in Carol's eyes when he arrived to pick up his son that evening. She received a call from Lori earlier that evening informing her of her sudden departure. While she knew of the struggle within their marriage she was unaware of the extent of the damage.

"Where's mom?" Carl had asked when they returned home to a house that was even more silent than usual.

Rick looked at his son, wishing, for his sake, that things had turned out differently. "She had to go away for a little while."

"Because she's sad?"

Of course, he noticed. They tried to maintain a sense of normalcy for Carl, but neither one was particularly good at acting. "Something like that."

"Is she going to come back?"

Would she?

"Yeah," he remembered saying, despite not truly knowing the answer. "She'll only be gone for a while."

She did return.

Three months later.

She was met with newly drafted divorce papers. In Rick's eyes, it was not negotiable.

~TFW~

Once Carol arrived and they were properly introduced, Michonne grew more at ease. Carl was happy to see his aunt, especially as she came bearing gifts and his cousin Sophia.

"Westbrook?" Carol asked looking up from her plate once the five of them were gathered around the dinner table in casual chatter. "You wouldn't happen to have any relation to Senator David Westbrook?"

Michonne shifted her weight, attempting to remain composed. Her family wasn't a subject she often discussed. She's be content if nobody outside of immediate family knew of the relation. "Yeah, he's my father."

"Small world," the silver-haired woman said with a small smile. She had taken a liking to the bohemian woman and her mesmerizing 70s inspired fashion. Michonne was not what she was expecting when Rick said he was seeing someone new. The woman was so unlike what she assumed his type to be. "I heard about his heart attack. I hope he's doing better. He's running for office again, right?"

"He's much better actually." Michonne's mother wasn't wrong when she called her husband a fighter. "So, you know him."

"Heard of him on the news," Carol corrected, her curious gaze taking in the other woman's every move. She wondered if Rick was going through some kind of crisis. Michonne was charming and warm, but Carol definitely didn't see her as his type. "So, what is it you do Michonne?"

"I paint and I plan weddings." She took of sip of her water, keeping her answer short.

"Oh wow," Carol said, still somewhat mystified. "It sounds like you lead an interesting life."

"I'm happy and I love what I do."

Carol glanced between Rick and Michonne, wearing a small smile of contemplation. Her nephew clearly adored this woman and Rick appeared happier than she had seen him in a while, possibly ever.

Dinner continued smoothly and transitioned to the living room where Carl had the opportunity to open his gifts. The adults were delighted with the excitement of the children, particularly with how enthralled they were with Bear. The happiness of children had a way of brightening a room and bringing ease to interactions.

"Alright everybody." Michonne emerged from the kitchen carrying the double chocolate cake Carl requested, with its ten lit candles on top. "It's time to sing to the birthday boy."

"Cake!" André exclaimed happily clapping his hands together in excitement.

" _Haaa-ppy birthday to you! Happy birthday to you._

 _Happy birthday dear Caaa-rrrl. Happy birthday to you!"_

"Make a wish."

Carl shut his eyes tight as his brow furrowed in concentration as he sorted out the thing he wanted most in the world. He wanted to get the wish right. After all, birthdays and wishes only came around once a year. He finally leaned forward, eyes still shut, and let out one powerful blow, extinguishing all ten candles at once.

" _Happy birthday!"_

"What did you wish for Carl?" André asked, tapping his new friend on his shoulder.

"Can't tell." He glanced at his Dad. "It won't come true if I tell, but I'll let you know as soon as it does."

"Aww I have to wait?" André looked up at his mother, the smartest person he knew, for confirmation of the accuracy of Carl's statement.

"Those are the birthday rules," Michonne confirmed.

"It's true," Sophia added, nodding her head vigorously. "I told my wish one time and it didn't come true." She pouted regretfully. "I really wanted that pony."

André was bouncing with excitement. "I hope your wish comes true really fast Carl."

"You and me both André."

While Carol began dishing out slices of birthday cake to the high-spirited bunch, Rick quietly slipped out of the house settling on the front steps. Lately, found himself in frequent moments of self-reflection, something that he avoided for some time. He supposed living in an even more isolated countryside than he grew up in was serving a useful purpose.

Rick heard the door swing open behind him and he didn't have to turn around to see who it was. He felt her warm presence and was instantly grateful to have her near.

She didn't break the silence with needless chatter. Being able to offer meaningful companionship in comfortable silence was a rare and beautiful thing, they seemed to have mastered. From their very first night together their interactions were effortless and uncomplicated.

She moved almost noiselessly as she sat down next to him.

"I never really planned on coming out here." He broke the silence as he gazed out at the vast expanse of land he now called his own. "I wanted to sell it and keep it moving, but then I started thinking. I spent so much time just going through the motions back home, it was like I wasn't really living."

Michonne scooted closer to him, resting her head against his shoulder and he wrapped an arm around her waist puling her closer until she was almost in his lap. "I'm glad you decided to come."

"Me too," he sighed. "I'm happier and I've found someone amazing."

She took a deep breath, shifting her head to get a look at his face. She decided to respond with humor, which always works for them. "Who is this someone? It's not Daryl, is it?"

"No, someone far prettier than him."

"Pretty? Is that the criteria?" she asked teasingly.

"Amongst other things." He pulled her into his lap, pulling her body impossibly closer to his own. He leaned in to kiss her, his hand slipping up her skirt, gathering the fabric and moving it upwards as his fingers lightly grazed her thigh. She trembled in response as he tilted his head, trailing kisses over her neck and collarbone.

Her hands found his hair as he undid the first few buttons of her blouse. "Is this part of the other things?" She asked breathlessly as she gazed down into his blue orbs. The intensity she saw there made her heart jump. She was bursting with need and from the look on his face waiting wasn't an option for him either.

Faint boyish laughter emanated from the door behind Rick filling the cool dark night. She laughed softly, her eyes brightening in the moonlight. "It's so easy to forget where we are sometimes."

He shrugged nonchalantly, his eyes still burning into her and he slipped his hand between them palming her breast. "We can move."

"I don't think we can make it upstairs unnoticed," she pointed out.

"Who said anything about goin' in the house?" He hastily got to his feet, pulling her with him as he led her, laughing like teenaged lovers, into the darkness towards his truck.

* * *

 **Let me know what you think. I love reading your reviews!**

 **Also, I will be posting a Holiday one-shot in a few days.**


	11. Chapter Eleven: The Westbrooks

**Chapter Eleven: The Westbrooks**

When Michonne was twelve years old, she learned the meaning of being 'always right'. At first, they were simply words, mumbled by her father after when her mother was out of earshot stewing over something or the other.

It made sense because as far as she knew, her mother, the pediatric psychiatrist (she always reminded people of that fact), was the most intelligent and brilliant person in the world and no one had or could surpass her. How could she _not_ always be right? Why on earth did David Westbrook ruefully shake his head as he muttered the all too familiar words after his wife, unsurprisingly, was once again right?

She didn't begin to understand until she was much older, that if you fought with Winnie, she fought to win because she never loses and she is _always_ right.

"I don't understand why I can't take the art classes instead," Michonne had said one evening after dinner. She sat bent over a chessboard as she battled out a game of chess with her father. "Mr. Horvath says I'm really good and Maggie's parents are letting her."

"Because I said no sweetheart." Her smile stood out in stark contrast to the hardness in her tone. It said, _don't argue, I know what's best._ And in almost all cases, she did.

"I don't even like the clarinet, I suck at soccer and I already have perfect grades in Math." Michonne stomped her foot in frustration, regretting it almost immediately.

Her mother spun around to face her again and the smile had disappeared. "You're stomping your feet at me now? You always did have a streak of rudeness in you. Did you see that David? She stomped at her mother."

"Now Michonne—"

"One day," she said interrupting her husband's admonishing, "you are going to be an accomplished woman like your mother. Think of the plan. You need to surround yourself with people who will be like you. I know this is only because of that girl you're always around. I don't want you around her so much."

"She's my friend."

"And I'm your mother," she snapped, raising her voice for the first time. The girl was from a nobody family and was a scholarship recipient to the prestigious school. "I matter more. I do so much for you. More than other mothers and you stomp around this house like an ungrateful little brat demanding this that and the other. Do I get a thank you? Sometimes I wonder if you even really love your mother."

She immediately felt guilty. Was she really a bad daughter? More trouble than other kids her age?

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean—"

"I don't have time for this silliness Michonne," she said dismissively as she gathered a stack of papers from a nearby table. "By this time tomorrow your mother will be breaking barriers like no other woman has done before. I am going to break the metaphorical glass ceiling at the NIH. Do you understand what this means? Life is like your little chess game over there. Strategy and strength is all you will ever need."

"Well, your mother isn't entirely wrong," David offered.

"I'm actually entirely right," she smiled.

Although she was now an adult, a part of her still dreaded the anxiety that filled her at the thought of doing something that may potentially disappoint her mother.

She stared at her refection through her vanity mirror, seeing wide-eyed twelve-year-old Michonne staring back behind her eyes.

"You ready to go?"

Michonne glanced up, staring at Rick through the mirror as he stood in the doorway of her bedroom. "Yeah, we should head out now. I don't being the last one to get there."

His brow furrowed as he carefully regarded her tense posture. "You okay?"

"Fine," she smiled tightly, hoping that saying aloud would eventually make it a true statement even though her mind was in overdrive searching for a last-minute escape.

"Sure about that?"

"Maybe we should stay in," she said. "We can do dinner with the family some other time. I can think of a million things we can do to occupy our time instead."

Rick chuckled softly, stepping further into the room. From what Michonne shared about her relationship with her family during their months of dating, it was clear that there was some discontentment there that went back further than the Michael debacle. He was sure the dinner would prove to be an eye-opening experience. "Unless you mean each other and those things involve getting' naked…"

"What makes you think they don't?"

He took her had in his, gently pulling her to her feet. "You look really nice," he complimented, his eyes darkening as they took in her body in the form-fitting white dress. "Is that new?"

"Thanks, and it's not. It's just something I pull out whenever it's time to see mom. You look pretty handsome yourself, by the way," she said, adjusting the collar of his button-down shirt. She had never seen him quite so formal, but it was a fitting look on him. "You sure you don't want to forget the dinner and let's stay in tonight instead?"

"We should probably leave because if you keep doing that I won't be able to stop myself from taking you up on that offer."

* * *

Michonne spotted Bob and Sasha's car and two others she couldn't identify when the pulled into the driveway of the sizable house. "Welcome to my childhood home."

He smiled taking in the house. "I could see little prep school Michonne coming home here. The chauffeur pulling up and the butler getting the door."

"Are you teasing me?"

"What? Don't act like you didn't have one."

"Well sorry to break it to you, but we had neither." Her nerves momentarily disappeared as she shifted her body to face his. "My Mom drove me to school on her way to work and we answered our own door. My parents were just a humble lawyer and Doctor."

"As the son of a humble Cop and Teacher, that's some good relatable news."

She placed her hand over his. "Thanks."

"For what?"

"Being you."

They walked through the chilly evening air arm in arm as they approached the large double doors. Michonne reached out to ring the doorbell despite still having a key.

"Good evening Miss Westbrook," Olivia greeted, "Miss Westbrook's friend."

"Rick Grimes," he offered her a warm charming smile holding out his hand for her to shake. When Olivia stepped back for them to enter he raised a brow giving Michonne a look as to call out her seemingly false claim of not having a butler.

"Mrs. Westbrook mentioned you were bringing a guest but I didn't get a name." The followed the dark-haired woman as she led them through the house.

"When I was growing up," she whispered quietly so Olivia wouldn't hear. "I said nothing about now. Besides, she's only part-time."

"Sure," he mouthed, continuing to tease her.

As they neared the dining room, Winnie appeared, walking slowly and deliberately toward her daughter and her new boyfriend wearing her smile she reserved for meeting new people. For a woman of her stature, her confidence made her appear larger than life.

"Hi darling," she greeted, using a term of endearment Michonne seemed to only hear when company was within earshot. She wrapped her daughter in an embrace before stepping back to look at her. "You're looking beautiful today. I do love white on you."

"Thanks Mom." Michonne reached out, lightly touching Rick's arm as if searching for a lifeline to recover from the soul crushing hug. "This is Rick. Rick this is my mother."

Her mother daintily held out her hand for him to shake while the smile remained plastered on her face. She always did have a good poker face, even while wearing a plethora of expressions, which made it was difficult to decipher her true thoughts and feelings. "It's so nice to meet you Richard. It is Richard, right?"

"Yes ma'am."

"Oh, would you listen to that adorable country accent," she laughed, giving his arm a small nudge. "Richard what?"

"Grimes," Rick answered, seemingly taken by her charm.

"Grimes," she repeated, accentuating every letter. "Very nice. Well everyone is in the dining room already. I forgot to mention it to you but I changed the start time to a bit earlier so everyone gets a chance to mingle and reacquaint themselves. You already know everybody Michonne, so we'll start dinner in a few minutes now that the two of you are here."

"Everyone?"

"Sasha, Bob and Tyrese are here as well as an old friend or two," she said cryptically.

"Great," Michonne mumbled sarcastically which resulted in a questioning look from Rick once Winnie turned her back. She simply shook her head offering a small smile of reassurance.

They followed the immaculately dressed woman as she glided toward the double doors leading to the room where they typically entertained guests. "Michonne is finally here everybody," she announced. "And she brought someone new with her. Find your seats, we'll start in five."

Rick took in the dining room with its formal place settings, resplendent floral arrangements, and the fine china atop the pristine white table cloth and wondered if they arranged every Sunday dinner with such grandeur.

Michonne immediately recognized the old friend or two. One was, surprisingly, her aunt Michelle in a flowy blue dashiki dress and the other was Dominic who she dated briefly in school while on break with Mike. He had a young woman on his arm. She smiled politely giving brief hellos as she made her way toward her father, Rick in tow.

"Hello, my little rose," her father said pulling her into a warm embrace.

"Hey Dad." When they pulled away, she glanced up at Rick who stood beside her, eyes surveying the room. "This is Rick."

"Nice to meet you sir," Rick said shaking the man's hand. He looked to be in good health and high spirits.

"Call me David." He patted Rick on the back. "Nice meeting you too. I've heard a lot over the past week."

The unhurriedly moved to their assigned seats, which Michonne's aunt, Michelle complained was a little much and Rick was in silent agreement. It'd be far simpler to have people sit where they may, in his opinion, particularly for a relatively small group. Michonne's father sat at the head of the long table with his wife on the other end. Rick, unfortunately, sat directly to the left of Michonne's mother with Michonne to his left and Dominic and his girlfriend on her left.

"We're doing things a little different this week," Winnie spoke up. "I'm sure you all noticed the empty plates. I want to try something a little different from family style and I decided to have a bit of a southern theme tonight. Getting in touch with all of our roots and all that. No dietary restrictions other than Dominic, correct?"

When everyone affirmed her question, she clapped her hands together signaling the start of dinner. The soup was served first and Michonne smiled wryly at the realization that her mother was pulling all the stops as if a senator or someone of equal social importance were present.

"It's so good to finally have Michonne's boyfriend Richard for a visit. So, tell us about yourself Richard," her mother began as she daintily raised her spoon to her mouth. "Where are you from? what do you do? Have you met everyone?"

He decided to tackle the easiest question. "Well I've met Sasha and Bob and now you and your husband, but that's about it."

"Well we should all introduce ourselves to Rick, right sweetheart?" she called to her husband on the other end.

He wasn't a particularly loquacious man. "We should."

"That's Dominic, next to Michonne," she said, nodding her head in the man's direction. "And his lovely girlfriend. What was your name again sweetheart?" she asked the caramel-skinned beauty with her signature Winnie smile.

"Karen."

"That's right," she said absently. "Dominic here is about to start working very closely with my husband on his upcoming campaign. He's a very intelligent and hard-working young man and it's so good to have him join our team." She sat back in her chair and Michonne could almost see the gears moving in her mind.

"You and Michonne dated at one point, isn't that right Dominic? I think that's how David and I first met you."

Michonne dropped her spoon shooting her mother a look that conveyed her reluctance to go delve up details of that relationship.

"We did."

"We were very taken with Dominic, unfortunately, things didn't work out between you two. I don't think my daughter was quite ready for the relationship. But everyone is paired up and happy now," Winnie sighed, cutting her eye to Michonne. "Michael is even getting married. Did you know that Michonne?"

"I didn't." She stared straight forward at nothing in particular appearing to want to be anywhere but at the dinner table. On the other hand, she finally had an idea of what Michel desperately wanted to discuss with her for weeks now.

"I figured. It hasn't been announced yet but a little birdie told me. I'm happy for him. He deserves a chance at real love." She was mostly hopeful that his mother would move on from his disaster of a wedding with Michonne and stop poisoning their social circles with her bitterness.

David's deep timber of a voice emanated from the end of the table. "So, Michonne tells us you're in the farming business."

Rick was happy for the much-needed change of subject. He hated seeing Michonne uncomfortable. "Yes, I own a farm."

"A farm!" Winnie repeated. The word, for some reason, sounded foreign on her tongue. "With pigs and sheep and cows?"

Rick remained unperturbed, chuckling softly to himself as he stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Well I don't have pigs and sheep, but it's somethin' like that. We have horses and cows for now."

"So, this farming thing, it's almost like being a businessman, isn't it?"

Michonne's hand found Rick's under the table and he gave her a reassuring squeeze before confidently answering. "Not exactly, but I s'ppose the comparison can be made."

"Of course, of course." She pierced a leaf with her salad fork, but did not bring it to her mouth. "But I hear farming incomes are on the rise. For the established ones that is. How long have you been a farmer?"

"I recently started within the past year."

"Fascinating! It's all new to you."

"What did you do before then?" Dominic asked, actively joining the conversation.

"I was the Sheriff in King County, Georgia."

"A cop," Dominic whistled, exchanging a look with Bob across the table that Rick couldn't quite decipher. "Why'd you stop? You seem a little young for retirement. You didn't get fired, did you? Or are you planning of joining the force again?"

The smugness didn't faze Rick and he understood the line of questioning given their obvious care for the woman beside him and his drastic change in profession, but it was odd coming from an ex-boyfriend. "Actually, I just needed a change. I didn't enjoy it much anymore anyway."

"Yeah, I can't imagine there's much action in, what was it?" Winnie asked. "King County? I've never heard of it and I have some family in Georgia."

"It's a pretty small town."

"Pretty homogenous too, right?" Bob asked, and Rick fought back the urge to not so nicely ask him what his deal was.

"Yes, it's a mostly White town. That's true of most small towns in Georgia."

"How'd you two meet?" asked Dominic.

"It's a long story that the family already knows, but he rescued me when my car broke down in the middle of that bad snow storm we had earlier this year. We've been pretty close since then."

"Protecting and serving till the end," said Bob holding up his glass with a friendly smile.

"How come you didn't tell me you've been living in a romance novel, Michonne?" Auntie Michelle asked chortling at her joke.

There was no time for an answer with Winnie was still digging for information. "Well how are you liking, Virginia is it?"

"Yes Virginia," he confirmed smiling at the inquisitive woman to his right with a face so similar to the alluring woman on his left. "It's a nice little change. I even wander off the farm from time to time."

"I've been showing him around Alexandria," Michonne added, smiling at him in admiration of how smoothly he was maneuvering through the inquisition.

"He's even met Ezekiel, so he's really seeing Alexandria," Sasha added, giving Michonne an encouraging smile. She called on multiple occasions after the lunch debacle to express her remorse for being so loose-lipped.

"Well lawyering didn't work out so I suppose tour guide immediately follows on the list." While her mother delivered it like a light-hearted joke, her dissatisfaction crawled over Michonne reminding her of her perceived failures. "The two of you make such an interesting pair."

"Well that's better than being uninteresting, isn't it?" Rick grabbed his glass with one hand and once again reached down to Michonne with the other to rest his hand on his knee. From the tightness in his jaw, she knew he was seeing what she saw.

There was a flash of something behind her mother's eyes that neither one could really decipher. "That it is."

"How is Ezekiel by the way. I always did love that man," Michelle, cut in, effectively steering the conversation in a lighter direction.

"Ezekiel is still Ezekiel," Michonne said with a laugh. "You should really come out to wine and paint at _Ezekiel's_ sometime. I'm leading once a week for the next month. Bring a date with you Auntie."

"Can the owner be my date?" she asked winking lasciviously. "I'd be the happiest woman on earth."

"I'll put in a good word for you."

As the conversation moved to Bob and Sasha and their decision to move Rick remained quiet, listening with a fixed expression. He silently observed the family dynamics and the different personalities that were apparent from the simple conversations.

David was friendly, but passive.

Bob was a staunch optimist.

Dominic was a brownnoser yearning for acceptance.

Sasha was kindhearted, but she relished in her aunt's praise, even when it was often at the expense of putting down her own daughter.

Michelle seemed to share Michone's carefree spirit and colorful fashion sense and she spent the evening sipping her wine and commenting here and there with a lighthearted joke.

Karen never spoke a word beyond reminding Winnie of her first name.

Winnie was unlike anyone he ever met. She was obviously a brilliant woman. She was engaging and didn't appear to be overtly malicious, in the way his father had been. She wasn't a monster, but something about her behavior was unsettling and it seemed to have a profound effect on the woman seated to Rick's left.

"Has my daughter met your family yet?" her mother asked after Dominic finished a tale that could be describes as less than mildly amusing. Rick didn't even bother to fake a laugh.

"Well, both of my parents are gone, but she has met my sister in law."

"Carol was a sweetheart."

"Oh? Your brother's wife?"

"Actually, she's my ex-wife's sister," he stated, unashamed.

"Ex-wife?" She wore a blank indecipherable expression as her eyes flitted to her daughter. "Well that's fitting, I guess. Hopefully commitment won't be an issue in this relationship."

Michonne smiled biting down on her tongue to keep from saying something she would regret in front of Dominic, an outsider. The game was definitely to play friendly and she would play along. "I have no idea why commitment would even be an issue."

"I don't see it being one either," Rick answered in a casual tone loosely draping his arm on the back of Michonne's chair. They were presenting a united front. "Is there a particular reason we should hope it won't be? I'd like to think we're discussing the present not the past. If there's one thing about Michonne and me it's that we both like to live in the here and now."

"Amen to that," Michelle said, raising her wine glass. She had a little too much, but what was a family dinner without a drunk auntie.

"Oh, there's no reason at all." His response confounded Winnie, but she recovered quickly not wanting to look foolish or purposefully mean-spirited. "I meant nothing by it. Michonne knows that. It was just an idle comment."

Rick was unlike the two young men who her daughter brought home for dinner. While Dominic and Michael revered her and sought her acceptance, Rick had no desire for the social or political advancements that their acquaintance would bring and as such, he was respectful but remained a picture of quiet confidence observing their stilted family dynamics.

"Oh, I almost forgot. Can I see you in the study before you run off sweetheart?" Winnie asked sweetly, even going as far as batting her eyes for good measure. "I have a little something for you."

"Sure."

"What day of the week was the painting class again?" Michelle asked a little too loudly. "I'm about to get me a man."

"Honey, I think your sister had enough," Winnie said to her husband though clenched teeth, as her eyes flitted to Dominic and Karen.

"I know I had enough, that's why I'm stopping after this one. What day was the class baby?"

"Friday nights."

"Me and the girls will be there."

Michonne couldn't help the laugh that slipped through her lips at how the dinner was turning around. Maybe it was the wine, but she felt as light and carefree as Michelle. The older woman smiled as well joining in on her laughter and soon, the entire table, save for Winnie was laughing as well.

"I'm not even sure what the joke is," David said, drying his eyes.

"Because my daughter and your sister can't seem to control themselves it seems," Winnie answered wryly.

"When something is funny, it's just funny," Michonne managed to say as she caught her breath. "You know when you just need a laugh and have no idea why?"

"Can't really relate," Winnie sighed. "Pointless laughter is a sign of madness. But drunks do it too."

"I know Miss Snotty with a stick up her ass over there is not calling me a drunk," Michelle said, pointing a fork in Winnie's direction without looking at the woman in question. "I'm a casual fucking drinker and I'm not even drunk yet. I drink just enough to enjoy my damn self. Maybe she should try it. It helps when you're around people you don't like."

Michelle being present for dinner was divine justice considering her tumultuous relationship with her sister-in-law. Things between them had never gotten this overtly hostile, at least not to Michonne's memory. When her aunt Michelle was present, she usually remained quiet, preferring to keep to herself.

"Now, Michelle," David said, trying to calm his sister. "It's all right."

"It's not alright David," Winnie objected angrily, her cool façade fading. "She's never respected me."

"Don't be so dramatic," Michelle said, waving her off. "I'm gonna shut up now. I don't want to embarrass anybody in front of company."

Winnie let out a dry laugh, rolling her eyes. "Who's embarrassed? I'm not the embarrassment in this family. I don't walk around acting like an old braless hippie, I have a real job and real accomplishments."

"Okay, I think everybody needs to calm down," Michonne said, glancing at the visibly uncomfortable Karen and Dominic.

Rick sat up straighter wondering if h was in a position to intervene in a physical fight since Winnie looked very close to pouncing across the table and wrapping her hands around Michelle's neck in a death grip.

"I'm so sorry for this terrible display of manners," Winnie said, still shooting daggers at Michelle. Rick could have sworn her heard her growl.

"I ain't sorry, but I'll stop," Michelle said crossing her arms.

In her rage, Winnie clutched her fork so hard she thought she would break skin. She absolutely loathed her sister-in-law and the only reason she was present was because she was back in town after a year-long cross-country tour with the ladies of her grassroots environmental education organization and her brother wanted to see her. Winnie reluctantly acquiesced and invited her.

"Should we bring in the dessert Mrs. Westbrook?" Olivia asked nervously, noting the tension in the room.

"Yes please," Michonne answered for her mother, studiously fighting back another burst of laughter at how wonderfully disastrous the evening turned out to be.

Dessert was tense and Winnie never touched her plate, but everyone put on Oscar-worthy performances of tolerance. Dominic and Karen did not stick around too long after dinner was over. They gave an excuse about having to meet up with someone. Michelle wasn't as graceful, boldly announcing to her ride, Bob and Sasha, that she was ready to leave the miserable bitch's house.

Winnie disappeared after dinner and Rick struck up a conversation with David, who reminisced on his days of horseback riding.

"Where are the two of you off to?" Michone asked, her boyfriend and father, breaking them from their conversation as she reemerged from the kitchen with a slice of cake.

"To see your embarrassing birthday party pictures," Rick answered with a smirk.

"Are you now? Well don't run away after you see them."

"Uh oh, I hope this don't give us none 'o those commitment issues I been hearing about."

"Well if my crazy family didn't run you off yet, I guess nothing will."

"I resent that," David laughed. "We're not that crazy."

She watched with a contented smile as the two men strolled toward the back of the house. As they disappeared, she forked a mouthful of cake into her mouth before slouching her shoulders and shuffling towards the stairs and her mother's second floor study, abandoning her empty plate on a side table on her way.

Her mother was right where she expected her to be, seated behind her desk stewing. Michonne could almost see the smoke coming from her ears.

"That was a disaster," Winnie said, as soon as Michonne entered. "Did you see how that woman treated me? I don't deserve that kind of treatment. I've been nothing but nice to that useless woman."

"That's just Auntie Michelle," Michonne said sympathetically, floored by the small amount of vulnerability she saw in her mother. "It's her personality and I think her emotions just got the better of her when you brought up the drunk thing, considering what happened with her father. It was a low blow."

"So, what?" she pouted. "She was acting like a classless street person in front of everybody. I don't want to associate with people like that as my family. We're too good for people like her and her weed-smoking band of idiots." Her tone grew mocking. "Saving the environment."

Michonne didn't immediately respond, she picked up an overturned chair across from Winnie, collateral damage in her mother's fit of rage, opting to sit as she waited to hear what she wanted. "So, other than Auntie Michelle, the dinner was to your liking?"

Winnie sat back in her chair, her anger seemingly dissipating. "I don't like him. He unsettles my spirit. All draped on you, questioning my motives as if he knows us."

"Rick?"

"Who else?" she hissed from behind her mahogany desk. "That's why I called you here. For the gift of my wisdom. I've put up with a lot when it comes to you. You're my only daughter and lord knows I've tried to give you the world, but you just seem to _insist_ on mediocrity.

"I sent you to the best schools, made sure you had tutors so you had the best grades. Do you know how luck you were to be in that position as a black girl in America? I didn't even object to that ridiculous art double major and then you turn around and drop out of law school at Georgetown to become a damn wedding planner? Where did I go wrong? Do you hate your mother?"

Michonne fought back an eye roll at her mother's dramatic rant. "I didn't drop out. I actually finished and I have my law degree."

"You might as well have dropped out. Did you know what that did to your mother? You didn't bother attending the commencement and you've never actually practiced law. What the hell was the point?"

"Well, I told you about a million times that I didn't –"

"Michael could have been a solution. Even as idiotic and foolish as he can be at times, he would have made a good husband and now he's about to marry some horse-faced frumpy looking girl."

"We never would have worked. I loved Michael, but I wasn't in love with him. I'm glad he has someone he loves."

"Who gives a damn about love," she spat icily. "At least he's going to be somebody. People will know his name. Who will know _Rick Grimes_?" She said his name as if it was a dirty word.

It truly was amazing how her demeanor behind the closed door of her office stood out in stark contrast to the smiling, calm and collected woman at the dinner table.

"Mom."

"And then you that wicked woman's side," she turned to face her daughter, crocodile tears brimming at her eyes. She imagined how grief stricken and remorseful she must have appeared and was internally pleased at her performance. "I just worry about you is all. You know I want the world for you."

"I don't need to marry Michael or have a certain career to live a fulfilling life mom," Michonne said, patting her shoulder comfortingly. "I just want to be happy and do what I love. If I get the feel for law again, maybe I'll go back to that. Study for the bar. Right now, I'm happy and I love my life the way it is and I wouldn't change a thing."

Winnie nodded, dramatically dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief as she turned her back to Michonne. "Okay." Her mind moved a mile a minute as she simultaneously calculated her next move with Michonne and plotted her revenge against Michelle for embarrassing her. "Your happiness is important. Just don't forget about your mother's happiness."

* * *

An hour later Rick and Michonne sat in his truck outside her apartment building, both pleased with how the night turned out.

"That was some night," Rick commented, as he sat slouched back in his seat looking over at Michonne with his squinted bedroom eyes.

"You must think my family is a hot ass mess," she chortled, shifting her body to face him. "And they are, but they're never that badly behaved."

"What family isn't a mess?" he said. "They were a helluva lot better than mine. Michelle was hilarious and your mama clearly hates me but at least she tried to be nice about it."

"She hates everybody and that was not her being nice. That was her being smart."

"Talkin' about commitment," he scoffed. "I'm not letting you get away."

"And you better not be thinking 'bout goin' nowhere either," she said in poor imitation of his accent as he leaned over to capture her full lips with his. The emotions she felt couldn't be more different than what she felt prior to the dinner.

"She told me she didn't like you questioning her like that about what she meant," she said softly, scooting as close as she could get. She was reminded of the night of Carl's birthday when she and Rick had sex in the bed of his truck and was almost caught by Carol, who seemed to put together the pieces of what was happening anyway.

"I just wanted some clarification," he shrugged. "I'd hate to think she was draggin' up shit from the past. Especially all that talk about Dominic and Michael. They don't have nothin' to do with us and I would have said as much but I was trying to be respectful."

"That's just how she is," Michonne explained. "You just get used to it after a while. She's not a bad person, she's just set in her ways and she still worries about my future even though I'm a grown woman with a happy life of my own."

"I love you and I don't like seeing you put down," he said, lifting her chin until her eyes met his stormy blue ones. "I let a few things slide, cause she's your mama, I was just meeting her and it didn't seem like it was my place, but with me in your life we're gonna need some conversation boundaries and some more respect."

"You said the L-word," she whispered, a feeling of pure euphoria overtaking her. It was a word that wasn't consciously in her mind, but upon hearing it she knew that was what she felt. It was a word on the tip of her tongue that eluded her whenever she tried to explain what she felt when she heard his voice or saw his face.

"What?" he was genuinely confused for a moment, not consciously realizing that he had even uttered said L-word.

She sat up on her knees crawling over the center console until she sat in his lap straddling him. "The L-word," she repeated, bringing her soft lips to his. "I love you too."

* * *

 **A/N: Okay, so a super long chapter for you. I think the longest in this story. Let me know what you think of dinner with Michonne's family in the reviews. I'd love to hear your thoughts.**


	12. Chapter Twelve: The Tenderhearted

A/N: Thanks for all the wonderful reviews of the last chapter. I'm glad so many of you were entertained by the dinner and rightfully upset with the family drama. There are lot of surprises and fun to come. I have another chapter for you now and I hope you all enjoy reading about a typical workday with Michonne.

* * *

 **Chapter Twelve: The Tenderhearted**

Michonne touched her fingers to her cheek, taking in the sketches on her desk at _MAW Events_ with a sigh. It was her first day back at her main job after a considerable amount of time away. Her restlessness had her attention scattered and she found it difficult to create an aesthetic suitable for the theme wedding her clients had in mind.

Her thoughts were everywhere at once.

When she wasn't thinking about Rick Grimes, she was thinking about the L-word. When she wasn't thinking about that, she was thinking about her impending meeting with André's father.

Michael had called her day before insisting that they meet to have a very frank discussion. Due to her mother's revelation weeks before, she already had a good idea of what the subject of their discussion would be.

"Maybe guardsmen?" she mumbled to herself as she flipped through the selected fabric swatches still feeling uninspired.

"Look who's back and hard at work. Vacation must be over."

Michonne smiled up at her best friend and business partner who stood in the doorway with her morning coffee in hand grinning back at her. "Trying."

"That for the Smith's?" She asked nodding to Michonne's overcrowded work desk.

"Yep," she sighed. "I'm meeting with them tomorrow morning to go over some designs for the wedding folder, potential vendors and a finalized head count and a rough timeline. There's so much to do and every time we meet there's drama."

"They seemed a little…"

"Like they wanted completely different things," she finished for her. "It happens. I just have to figure out how to create a perfect blend of fairytale wedding with a hint of NRA wedding without it being a tacky mess."

"We'll come up with something good. As long as they're not planning on a confederate theme to go along with all that confusion." She waved her hand at Michonne's desk to emphasize her point.

"Definitely not," Michonne replied. "I made myself super clear, so I doubt it'll even be a suggestion. It's definitely not one for the portfolio though."

Andrea stepped further into the room, plopping down on a chair in the far corner of the room. "So, what else is on that beautiful mind of yours, babe?"

"A lot."

Andrea snapped her fingers and nodded her head knowingly. "Sex."

"I don't share a mind with you anymore you know." She might have had a daydream, or several, about naked painting and late-night truck sexcapades, but she'd never admit that Andrea was right.

"Deny it all you want," she sang. "You ain't fooling nobody."

"Well besides thinking about sex, Michael wants to meet up with me this afternoon to discuss something important."

Andrea scrunched up her nose at the mention of his name. "The engagement?"

"Most likely. I guess that's what he's been trying to tell me this past few weeks. Thank God it's not another plea to get back together or I can't be held responsible for what I'll do to him."

"Don't worry, I'll help you hide the body," Andrea joked. "Can't he just call you up on the phone and tell you like a normal shitty ex? Why do you need to have a whole lunch? He's so dramatic," she complained stomping her foot. "We're supposed to have lunch and now I gotta eat alone today? You think there's more to it?"

"I don't know," she said. "And it's just coffee. There's probably more to it though. Nothing has ever been simple with him."

"But besides that disappointment, you're looking good," Andrea complimented. "I've barely seen you these last few weeks, but love is a good look on you."

"Thanks!" Michonne grinned. "Everything has been so…" She tried to find the words to explain the indescribable feeling she felt whenever she thought about Rick. It was like she would burst with happiness. "Wonderful."

"Has to be if you're playing disappearing act on me. I'll fight Rick if he steal you away from me. Don't forget I'm your first love."

"It's been a busy few weeks. I was working on my other stuff too." She threw a balled up sticky note paper at Andrea, joining in on her laughter when the weapon fell short of its point of target. "Speaking of love, I said it." She was eager to share some of what occupied her thoughts.

" _You_ said the L-word?"

"Why do you sound so surprised?" Michonne asked feigning offense. "And he said it first, but I said it back. And I meant it. I _really_ meant it. It came out without me even thinking too hard about it."

"Oh my God." Andrea slapped her palms against her thigh. "You're fucking sprung. I knew this was serious but just wow. I need to meet up with his ass again you're already at this point. You two should come out this Saturday. Stop holing up in that farmhouse."

"We just might." She liked the idea of getting out on the weekend and having a bit of fun with friends and her new love. "And what about you? How is Phillip?"

"Oh, I meant to call you to tell you about that mess." Andrea kicked off her heels, pulling her feet up. It was officially story time. When they got started to could go on for a while. "So, we've been seeing each other pretty often since that couples cooking thing we did and he was sweet at first but he started going into crazy town and I had to break things off with his obsessive psychotic ass. Now I'm single and ready to mingle." She picked at her manicured fingers. "Don't worry, I'll be on the lookout for a new boyfriend his weekend. I have to plan my own wedding eventually."

"Hold up. Go back a minute. Psychotic? What happened?"

Andrea sighed heavily, crossing her arms as if it wasn't something she particularly wanted to discuss. "Well, I found out Phillip Blake is a married man and has a family back in Alabama or wherever the fuck he's from."

"I'm so sorry."

"I confronted him about it and he said some crap about how they're going through a divorce and blah, blah, blah. What I don't get is why he would lie to me saying he's single and not even mention having a kid much less two. Why? So, I broke things off with him and I told him I can't be with a lying man. I can't trust him." She paused for effect, taking a sip of her coffee before continuing to the rest of the story. "Then this asshole had the nerve to start stalking me."

Michonne's eyes widened and her heart started hammering as her concern for her friend grew. "He's stalking you?"

"Was. He would park outside my building sometimes and he would even sit in the lobby until I alerted security and put a stop to it. He showed up here a few times too," she said. "I'm thinking about hiring somebody. He's been calling and I got a really creepy note this morning?"

"Are you serious?" she asked in a whisper as if he was nearby and could hear them. "And if you got a note, that's not a 'was', this is still very much happening. This is crazy. Can you maybe file a restraining order?"

Andrea shrugged. "I don't know, you're the lawyer."

Michonne rose from her chair crossing the short distance between herself and Andrea and pulled her into a warm embrace. "You can definitely get a temporary one, for now."

"I sure know how to pick 'em huh?" she asked with a wry laugh as they pulled away. Andrea curled her hands around her sides, her eyes casted downward. "Who would have guessed I bagged a psychopath? I should have taken your advice and not let new people I'm dating know where I live."

"This isn't your fault," said Michonne. She felt a pang of regret for being so lost in her own relationship in the past few months, that she was unaware of the dangers her best friend was facing. "Don't blame yourself for he's doing. I'll hook you up with an old friend of mine from Georgetown. She's basically an expert on these things now. Phillip, if that's even his real name, has got to go."

"Thanks." Andrea smiled gratefully. "Sorry for springing my mess on you like this. It's not what I came in here to do. It's just that I feel like I should have a better handle on things. I was too trusting. I wish I had your sixth sense for serial killers."

"It's an acquired skill. Lots of detective shows helps." The two women shared a laugh, the mood lightening considerably.

A soft knock at the door interrupted them and Bertie, their office assistant, stuck her head into the room. "Sasha's here to see you."

Michonne furrowed her brow, genuinely confused since she had barely spoken to her cousin lately. "Sasha?"

"Your cousin," Sasha replied emerging from behind Bertie.

"Hey Sash," Andrea called with a wave. The bright smile she was the polar opposite of the look of despair that marred her face minutes before. "Well I have a meeting with a potential vendor in twenty minutes. Talk to you later? You can tell me more about your friend," she added discreetly as she exited the room.

Michonne returned to der desk at a leisurely pace. "What's up Sash? Everything alright?"

Sasha fidgeted with her hands looking everywhere but at Michonne. Her all-black suit and wary expression contrasted almost comically with the room and its vibrant and scintillating aesthetic. Like standing in an extremely unsuitable multicolored funeral parlor. "I…uh wanted to talk to you."

"What about?"

"Well, Bob and I are still looking for a good planner for the wedding and I was wondering if you can take on another client." She moved to the seat Andrea vacated clasping her hands together in her lap. "I know you and Andrea are probably very busy, so it's okay if you can't. It's just a thought. We're keeping our options open in case."

Michonne sat back in her chair carefully surveying her cousin and her nervous body language. "Sasha, you know I'd love nothing more than to help you plan your wedding. Of course, we'll take you on."

"Great," she smiled. "I've been looking at your wedding portfolio on the website again and I really like what I see. You're clearly one of the best in the DMV."

Michonne remembered her mother's jibe at lunch about knowing great planners. It was also clear their meeting was about a bit more than wedding planning otherwise, why not bring the groom or even her mother? She knew Sasha.

"Okay." Michonne held up a hand. "Can we stop being so overly formal? It's really awkward."

Sasha chuckled softly feeling a little silly. "I just…I'm so sorry. For being a bad friend. For being a bad cousin. I don't want there to be a rift between us. I wasn't thinking when I said what I said. I was just worried about you and I really wanted Aunt Winnie's acceptance. She was saying all these nice things and it slipped out. I wasn't trying to be malicious or anything."

"Well there's nothing to worry about and your apology is still accepted. Just be careful what you say around her. Our relationship can be a little…tough at times," she said. Things were still not perfect between them, but it was a start. "You should know, were at dinner."

"Bob and I got an earful from Aunt Michelle on our way home," Sasha said with a laugh as she became less tense. "She had a lot to say and I never realized how colorful her vocabulary is. I almost wrote down some of her insults for me to use sometime because it was that genius. But she also opened my eyes to a few things I didn't notice about myself and even our family. I really am sorry."

"I can imagine," Michonne laughed, thinking back on the beautiful disaster of a dinner. She picked up a pen twirling it between her fingers. "Now, what did you have in mind? Summer wedding, right?"

"Late summer. I really liked the garden wedding you did, but I'm not set on anything yet. We just selected the final date and we have a rough count of guests," she said. "I just came from a meeting so, I didn't really come prepared with much, but we can set something up."

"Definitely. I have a lot of free time next week."

"Bob and I are moving by the way," she said. "He took the job and I have my own thing lined up as well."

"Wow. Does my Mom know?"

"Yes." Sasha nodded. "She was the first to know and she helped us with all the negotiations and everything so it was only made sense that she should. Plus, we're only an hour and a half away, so it's not like we're moving somewhere where we won't see everybody often enough."

"Well I'm happy for you guys."

"And how are things with you and the — and Rick? You two seem good together."

"Things are great."

"Hey, you want to have lunch today or…"

Michonne groaned throwing her head back, inadvertently causing Sasha to think she was annoyed at the suggestion or her presence in her office. "I can't. I'm having coffee with Michael in like," she glanced at the clock on her wall. "Too damn soon."

Sasha burst into a fit of giggles at her cousin's tortured expression. "Don't laugh at me. I just had to cancel on Andrea too. Maybe you can take my place with her. She hates eating alone in public and she really wants to go to this new place a few blocks away."

"Don't worry, we'll bring you back something."

"You'd better," Michonne said as she scribbled down a reminder to call her old friend from Georgetown on a fresh sticky note from her customized cat patterned sticky note cube. "I only have a little break when I get back before I have to meet Deanna and Spencer across town."

* * *

Michonne strolled down the familiar street, her eyes scanning her surroundings as she made her way to the building where Michael now worked. They agreed on a very informal chat in the coffee shop on the first floor of his building.

Her phone buzzed in her hand and she looked down to see a text message from Rick confirming she was on his mind as much as he was on hers. She found herself counting down the hours and minutes until they saw each other again.

She sent him a quick text letting him know he was all hers for the weekend and would be experiencing a Saturday night out in DC. His response was quick.

 _ **Looking forward to it. Empty house this wknd too.**_

As she stepped into the building she heard an all too familiar voice calling her name. "Michonne!"

"Michael," she said, politely as he approached her, walking briskly across the large lobby.

"Thanks for meeting me."

She pulled her bright orange jacket tighter around her body, crossing her arms. "Well you said it was extremely important. I might as well find out what that means."

"It is, but it's nothing bad I promise," he assured her. "You look really nice by the way. Colorful and dazzling as usual." She was never one to shift to darker colors in the winter, instead opting for bright neutrals.

"Thanks." She politely accepted the compliment. "So, coffee?"

"Oh yeah, this way." He gestured for her to walk with him. "How are things with André at home? Any trouble?"

"No," she answered, quietly wondering what his deal was. She didn't like how cryptic and unforthcoming he was. "André is exactly as he's always been. Is there something I should know? Did you have any problems last—"

"We had a blast last weekend by the way," he said as they joined the line for their orders. "He's smart like the two of us and he's got a hell of a sweet tooth. Gotta watch out for that. It's no surprise though, considering how much you like to bake and how good you are at it."

"Well I have a sweet tooth myself."

"Yeah," he chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Remember that time when we pulled an all-nighter and you ate an entire jar of Nutella by yourself?"

"It wasn't a full jar," she defended herself while laughing at the memory. "And I was stressed. Drinking all those Mountain Dews after wasn't a good idea though. To this day, I still won't touch Nutella."

"We had fun in college and law school. Those were the golden days, huh? It felt like nothing could touch us."

She could hear the nostalgia in his voice and quickly changed the subject, suddenly not in the mood for reminiscing. She didn't quite remember those days always being golden. "So how are things with you?"

He blew out a breath, shoving his hands in his pockets. "That's what I wanted to talk to you about. Make sure we're on the same page since we're raising a kid together. Our son deserves parents that get along instead of ones that avoid each other or gets mad when they see the other one."

They were next in line and Michael ordered his coffee and she got her hot chocolate, declining his offer to pay for her drink in addition to his. There were some boundaries she wanted to keep firmly in place.

"So, tell me," she said once they were seated, not wasting anytime. If this conversation ended quick and painlessly, she might be able to make lunch with Sasha and Andrea after all.

"I'm getting married."

She already knew this "news" of his due to her mother's inability to stay out of other people's business. "Congratulations. This _is_ good news. I'm sure André would love being part of a wedding. Who is it by the way?"

"Yep, André's getting a stepmom," he said. "Her name's Julie Washington."

"Sounds familiar," she hummed, sipping from her cup. "Julie Washington. Was she at Georgetown with us?"

"No, she went to George Washington," he said. "I...I don't think you know her. You might know her Mom, she's a state representative. Tamela Washington."

"Oh, okay. I don't think I know her though." She hoped that was all, but she could tell there was more. She didn't like not knowing what would come next. In a way, it made her feel defenseless and vulnerable as if he had too much control.

"I'm also getting a promotion."

"Wow, it's good news all around then."

"Yeah," he said. "It's not exactly a promotion, but I'm leaving the job and I'll be doing something a little different outside DC. Baltimore actually. Pay is higher too."

"Oh wow. So, you're moving?"

"Yes." He shifted in his seat and his nervous energy was transferring to Michonne who was anxious about what else he was trying to say. "I'm going to run for office next year. In Maryland. Just between us, I'm trying to build things up right so I can run for senate, and win, in a few years."

"That's great. Good for you. Is that all you've been trying to tell me for so long?" she asked keeping her tone light. She knew there had to be more. "I flaked out on a lunch date with Andrea and Sasha for this and you had me extremely worried."

"I could buy you lunch to make it up," he said in a joking tone.

"That's alright." She waved him off. "They're bringing me back some takeout anyway."

"Well seeing as you're now in the wedding planning business, you have any suggestions for me? A soon to be married man at last."

Michonne found the question oddly troublesome. Not only because the two of them had planned a whole wedding together that ended disastrously and started a tense family feud, but also because their relationship was not at that level of comfort or friendliness where that would be a sensible question to pose. She attempted to remain neutral on the matter. "Do what you both love and I'm sure things will work out."

"We're looking for a planner. Well more of her and her mom than me. They want a huge wedding."

"Oh?"

"Julie has this shortlist," he chuckled. "She's so excited about the wedding. She can't wait to walk down the aisle and say I do."

She smiled politely despite her annoyance. She knew what Michael was trying to do and she wasn't going to let it get to her. She apologized enough for her past mistakes. She wondered what Andrea and Sasha were having for lunch. Hopefully they really did go to the Thai place since she was in the mood for that. "That's great Michael."

"Michael, huh?" He rested his elbows on the table leaning forward. "What'd I do now?"

"Nothing. I always call you that. I'm just wondering what this is about is all about though," she said gesturing between them. "We're here talking about planning your wedding of all things. I'm glad you let me know, but there's no need to discuss anything further than your getting married and moving. So, I'm just waiting for the other shoe to drop like it always does."

"It's not. I promised I wouldn't bring no bad news." He held up his hand as if taking an oath. "I keep my promises. I'd like to take André a little earlier next week by the way. I'm taking a trip up to Vermont and I want him with me."

"How much earlier?"

"Thursday to Sunday."

"Easter holiday. My family usually has a thing." She tilted her head to the side regarding him carefully. "What's in Vermont?"

"Family," he said, his tone harder than before. "I figured it wouldn't be a problem since a few weeks ago you asked for him on a day during my time so he could go to a birthday party. If you can dip into my time, then I don't see anything wrong with this."

"I didn't say it was a problem and you were going out of town that day anyway, so you were probably going to ask me to keep him for the weekend." She lowered her gaze tracing over the design on the cup with her fingers. She didn't bring up the times when he cancelled on her altogether because unlike him she wasn't one for cheap guilt trips. "I'll have him ready next Thursday. You can email me the details. I'm sure he'll be excited about another plane ride."

"Thank you."

"What for?" Her brow furrowed as she looked up to meet his gaze again. "He's your son too. You're entitled to your time with him. That's what we agreed on."

"I hear you're dating again," he said, instead of addressing her question. "I wasn't informed."

Her expression gave nothing away. "Where'd you hear that?"

"Word spreads," he said simply. "Even though, I should have heard it from you, not somebody else. Who's the lucky guy? Somebody I know?"

"Oh, that word didn't spread too? Shame. I didn't take you for a gossip though."

He chortled at her quick response looking down at the table as he rapped his fingertips against the top. "You know, it's a shame things didn't work out between us. We could've had one hell of a wedding. If things don't work out with our planner, me and Julie should probably get Winnie to do it. She did such a good job last time."

"I'm gonna go now," she said, reaching for her bag. "Congratulations on your engagement and promotion. It's clear you have nothing else to say and I think I've given you enough of my time. See you Friday afternoon at the usual time."

"What are you so afraid of Michonne? Huh?" he asked as she stood. "Anytime things don't go your way you're just gonna run away. We can't even have a discussion as adults without you running off like a scared child. I hope this new guy knows what he's dealing with or he's gonna end up like me and get a rude awakening from the runaway bride."

"This is the last time I'm gonna say this," she said in a low voice, not wanting to cause a scene and draw attention to their table. "I'm sorry how things ended between us, I should have been clearer with you about how I felt, but I'm going to need you to stay in your fucking lane. Okay? We are over and you and I aren't friends. We're just raising a child together so from now on I'm setting some boundaries. We only discuss things that are directly related to André or that will affect him. Nothing else. You don't show up to my apartment unannounced anymore either."

She rose to her feet grabbing her cup while looking down at a steely-eyed Michael. "André and I will be in the lobby of my building on Friday at four-thirty. No need for you to come up."

* * *

 **Thanks for reading! I'm sure you're all wondering what's up with Michael. Please leave some more of your wonderful reviews with your hilarious and thoughtful words. I love reading your thoughts.**


	13. Chapter Thirteen:The Monstrous Masterpie

**A/N:** Thank you for the wonderful responses to the last chapter. I reread them multiple times. I'm sure many of you will be pleased with the brief reappearance of a certain character in this chapter. Enjoy!

* * *

 **Chapter Thirteen: The Monstrous Masterpiece**

Friday afternoon, Michonne sat folded into the couch in her loft, staring at the blank canvas across the room. The sound of the doorbell ringing broke her from her thoughts causing her to jump slightly at the sound. Her eyes shifted to the table clock checked the clock in worry that time had gotten away from her.

She wasn't expecting Michael until four-thirty.

"Is that daddy?" André asked, looking up from his coloring. He enjoyed emulating his mother and would often join her in the loft whenever she slipped away to work. She enjoyed his company and he, ever a thoughtful child, made an effort not to be too distracting. He observed her in her element and mimicked her calm and focus with ease.

Unfortunately, today with her ever working mind, he was the only one utilizing his artistry.

"I don't think so," she said, stretching her cramped muscles as she rose from the paint splattered couch. _It had better not be him_ , she thought. He seemed to have gotten the message when she told him not to come up to her apartment unannounced. "I'll be back in a sec."

Michonne jogged down the loft stairs, picking up a stray toy in the living room as she went to answer the door. Her soft R&B music from her earlier baking adventure echoed around her as she passed.

She let out a sigh of relief and the familiar light feeling returned when she looked through the peephole to identify the unexpected visitor. "What brings you here on this fine day Sheriff?"

"I'm a little early, I know. I hope that's okay. I meant to call but…" He pulled his hand from behind his back revealing a bouquet of purple roses and lilacs. "For you."

"Thank you. What's this for?" She asked as she took them admiring the vibrant colors.

"I don't need a reason. Just somethin' pretty for someone pretty." A smile seemed to be permanently etched on her face whenever he was around. He loved seeing her smile. It was as if the sun itself was painted across her ethereal face.

"Sweet talker." She leaned up on her tiptoes giving him a soft kiss and he wound his arm around her waist pulling her body flush against his as their kiss deepened. He felt a stirring in his pants as she lightly ground her body against his.

"We alone?" he asked when they pulled away to catch their breath.

"No, my mini-me is up in the loft working on his next great masterpiece. I have the future Picasso in the making over here."

"Creative like his Mama, huh?" Rick patted her behind as he let her go and entered the apartment, shutting the door behind him. Snoopy ran up to greet him, nipping excitedly at his feet.

"I'll go put these in water," she said referring to the flowers. "So, you ready for tonight? Where's Carl?"

"My mini-me is with Carol. She got him from school. She's visiting with her friend Nancy again."

"Again?" she called from the kitchen. "Are they thinking of moving nearby?"

He strolled through the house, admiring the view of the city below through the glass patio doors. The drapery that usually blocked out much of the bright light was gone. "I don't think so. Nancy's kid has a birthday thing, so she took him up with her and Sophia."

"Hi Rick!" André called from the top of the loft stairs having heard the man's familiar voice.

"Hey buddy. What're you up to?"

"Drawing," he said as he started descending the stairs a paper covered in colorful shapes in hand. "Is Carl here?"

"Sorry." Rick held his hands open, his mouth curving into a smile. "Just me, today."

"You wanna see?" André asked, holding up his creation for Rick to see as he approached him.

"That's pretty good! The beach. Those have to be the most perfect circles I've ever seen."

"I used Mommy's bracelets and earrings to make the sun and the beach ball."

"You all finished?" Michonne asked as she reemerged from the kitchen with her flowers.

"Yeah." He nodded his head enthusiastically. "Those are pretty Mommy."

"Thank you," she smiled. "Rick brought them for me. These are roses," she said, pointing to the specially bred purple flowers. "And lilacs."

André ambled over reaching out his little fingers to touch. "Pretty," he whispered, his brown eyes wide with wonder. It was clear he saw the world in color much like his mother. As is often the case with five-year old's his interest shifted to something else. "Can I have another cookie mommy?"

"One and that's it."

She presented the platter of chocolate chip cookies to him and he gleefully selected one before turning to look back at Rick. "You should have one too. They're yummy and I helped make them."

"You did?" Rick reached out taking one for himself. "Well now I gotta try out your hard work."

"It was easy," he corrected. "Mommy showed me and I did everything she said and I put in the chocolate ships too. Then I waited for the timer."

"Well you did a good job André, this is delicious. You're a pro."

André bit into his own cookie, a smile of pride on his face. "Thank you."

"He's my favorite little helper." Michonne leaned down, giving him a quick peck on his forehead as she passed, moving into the living room. She picked up the abandoned Smith wedding binder she was working on earlier in the day and collapsed onto the couch with a groan. "It's too bad he can't help me with this thing. I wish I was more productive today. I had to make a million phone calls to vendors today because I've been getting the run around from this couple."

While she usually went in to the office on Friday's she opted to work from home instead, in hopes of being able to give her projects her complete concentration.

"Need another change of scenery?" Rick asked suggestively in a low voice as he approached, taking a seat next to her.

Her voice was a low murmur as she spoke, exceedingly aware of the little ears only a few feet away. "Well we do have that big 'ol house to ourselves. I'm sure you'll think of ways to inspire my creativity. I haven't forgotten our last project."

"Which was all you by the way," he reminded her with a smirk. "What was it you said?" He tilted his head, his stormy blue eyes meeting her expressive brown orbs. "Let's make a deal?"

"I might have said something along those lines," she said with a coy smile.

"Mommy?"

She turned to her son with the tender smile she unconsciously reserved for him. "Yes, my love?"

"I think Daddy will like my picture," he concluded, staring at his creation. "I'll give it to him. He likes the beach."

"Oh, he does?"

"Uh huh. We went for the whole time last time, but we couldn't go in the water because it was too cold. I had to stay inside the house with Miss Julie a lot."

This was news to Michonne. "Well once it's warmer, swimming won't be an issue. When I was just a little bigger than you, grandma and grandpa used to take me to the beach all the time. Playing in the sand is even more fun than snow." Her childhood weekend trips to the beach in Maryland were so unlike those her family frequented on their annual family vacation to the Caribbean.

André seemed excited at the prospect of the beach and she made a mental note to go through with her vacation plans for them this year.

She offered Rick a drink and watched as he settled in the living room with André listening to the boy's chatter without a hint of disinterest in his demeanor. Lately, she found, she had been losing herself in thoughts about him. Whenever he crossed her mind, she was sure that the look that Andrea described as love-struck became an almost permanent fixture on her face.

 _Love struck._

She watched as his eyes scrunched at the corners and his deep laughter filled the room. A familiar warmth filled her. She supposed she was love-struck.

She would have never imagined that would ever be a word to describe her state of being at any time. It both scared and thrilled her.

She caught sight of the clock on the wall and her eyes widened. Had that much time passed since Rick arrived?

"Shit it's four thirty-eight." She silently hoped Michael didn't pick today to actually be on time for pick-up. She had left her phone up in the loft and she was sure he must have called if he arrived and hadn't found her waiting. "André get your shoes on baby. Let's go down to meet your Dad."

She grabbed his little duffle bag as she shuffled to the rack near the door to get his shoes.

"I'll be back in a sec," she said to Rick as she jogged to the door, swinging the bag over her shoulder.

She swung the front door open to find Michael standing, nostrils flared and hand aloft to ring the doorbell.

"Michael."

"You weren't in the lobby with my son and I tried to call and you didn't pick up the phone, so I had to swerve out my lane for a minute. If you're going to change our arrangement at least be mature enough to stick to it," he spat sarcastically in a low voice. "I don't know what games you're trying to play, but I'm not the one."

"For your information, we were just on our way down." She remained a picture of calm, seeing as her son was only a few steps away. "Sorry for not being as mature as you are. I guess I have a lot to learn. I'll take notes." She returned his sarcasm smoothly.

"Hi Daddy!" André stuck his head out from behind his mother grinning up at his father with his dark innocent eyes. "I drew you a picture." He waved the piece of paper he was holding and Michael took it with a small forced smile.

"That's cute," he chuckled. "Playing around with crayons like your mother. It's good for your development I guess."

"Development?" He adorably mispronounced the word and looked up at his mother for confirmation and she simply offered a tight smile.

"Yep." Michael leaned down so he was eye level with the boy. "It's cool for now that you're little, but when you get older you're gonna develop to do big things like being a lawyer like daddy. Exciting, huh?" He reached out to tickle the little boy and pulled him into his arms as his giggles filled the room.

"Is it fun? I wanna draw and make flowers and cookies like mommy though," André said emphatically when he finished laughing, referring to his mother's wedding planning career. "Or write books. Or I want to ride horses like Carl's daddy!"

"Being a lawyer is _way_ more fun. Trust me." He playfully pinched André's nose. "Besides drawing and playing with flowers all day gets old. Nobody wants to do that forever."

Michonne ground her teeth to keep from saying something she would regret. "You can be whatever you want to be baby. And you have a very long time to figure out what you like." She handed Michael his bag, meeting his hard eyes. "See you Monday."

"Bye Mommy," he said, leaning forward in his father's arms to give her a goodbye kiss. "Bye Rick!" he yelled over her shoulder, causing Michael's eyes to pop open so wide she thought they would fall from their sockets.

"Later! Have fun."

She didn't give Michael a chance to speak. "Bye. Make sure you remember to brush your teeth."

"I will. Have a good weekend Mommy."

She gave her son another quick wave and closed her apartment door on a fuming Michael, returning to where Rick sat waiting for her.

"He giving you trouble?"

"Some," she said, with a heavy sigh, plopping down beside him and curling into his side. "I don't know what he wants from me. I think he gets a kick out of making my life hell and trying to belittle me because of what happened."

"Hmm." Rick nodded, staring straight ahead as he played with her fingers. "I didn't want to insert myself where I could make things difficult or confusing, but that guy sounds like an ass. You talk to him about that?"

"Many times." She rubbed her forehead. "It's easier to ignore him and he'll fizzle away. He thrives on feeling superior so it's best not to give him an argument that he'll only think he's winning."

"I don't know…" he scowled, trying to focus on continuing a light conversation with her, but still bothered by the man's condescending tone.

"It's fine." She kissed the corner of his mouth, grinning as she pulled away wanting to lighten the mood. "Let's forget him."

She lifted herself up, slinking over until she sat astride him, her hands around his neck. She flipped her loose dreads over her shoulder and brought her soft, plump lips to meet his. Their mouths moved together slowly and sensually. Her taste was intoxicating on his lips.

She ground her hips against his denim clad crotch eliciting a low growl from his chest. He held her hips stilling her sensual movement. "If you keep doing that…"

"Doing what?" She bit her lip feigning innocence. "I like this song. What are you gonna do?"

"What time do we have to be at Ezekiel's?" he asked huskily, as his hands under her loose skirt, travelling up her thighs.

She continued to move in a rhythmic dance against his rising hardness. Back and forth, with the perfect measured beat of the soft music. She smiled triumphantly as his lips attacked her neck. "We have a few hours."

His fingers, still exploring, deftly shifted her underwear to the side. "We better make use of that time then."

* * *

 _Ezekiel's_ had a sizeable group gathered for wine and paint night and unsurprisingly, Auntie Michelle was among the attendees along with two of her friends as promised. The three of them stood near the live jazz band swaying and twirling.

"Is that your aunt over there?" Rick asked, nodding toward the woman at the far side of the room.

"Don't think she was joking," she said, beaming as she watched her aunt animatedly chatting with the two ladies that accompanied her. "When Auntie Michelle says something, she usually means it."

"Ezekiel's in for an interesting night then." His hand tightened around her waist and she leaned further into him. "I can't wait to see this."

"Thanks for coming out tonight by the way." She turned in his arms to face him. "Mr. Homebody."

"Hmm." He tilted her chin up, leaning down to place a kiss on her lips. Their "few hours" in her apartment passed far too quickly for his liking and it was a challenge, dragging themselves from each other to interact with the outside world. "This, I wouldn't miss. Tomorrow…"

"Andrea will kill the both of us if we don't go out with her." She flicked his side playfully. "Don't think you can keep me inside all day tomorrow with all those empty house promises. I've been neglecting my best friend."

Rick chuckled unabashed by exactly what he promised and planned to do with her in that empty house. "Anything for my love."

She joined his laughter, her eyes glowing with delight. "Your love." She loved the sound of that word to the point of wanting to hear him say it forever.

 _Love-struck._

"Is that my favorite niece?" The rambunctious Auntie shuffled toward her niece, her hands extended in the air as her tangerine colored floral dress twirled around her.

"Hey Auntie!" They exchanged double cheek kiss, before the woman pulled Rick into a friendly hug followed by a double cheek kiss.

"I haven't seen my future husband yet," she said, letting go of Rick. "But Delilah, Calliope and I have been living it up on this nonexistent dance floor. Somebody has to lively up the place. All people do these days is stare at their phones. This is a time to dance." She did a little shimmy. "They have a good selection of wine here too, so we should drink as well. By the way, what are you teaching us today baby?"

Michonne exchanged a knowing look with Rick, who was positively beaming at the woman with a larger than life personality. "We're painting two lovers in a park."

"Ooh." Michelle winked at Rick. "It's like art imitating life. Well come on get a drink or two so we can get this party started. And don't worry, I won't lead him astray."

The three approached the bar where they were joined by Auntie Michelle's colorful friends who were part of her cross-country grassroots project. Rick listened with bemusement as the ladies described what they did for a living and their plans for their year-long upcoming cross-country trip in an RV ran on vegetable oil.

"Is that my best friend?" Michonne heard Andrea yell from across the room.

"The hell is this hoochie doing with my man?" Michelle asked, jokingly when she spotted the gray-haired dreadlocked man who walked arm-in-arm with the tall blonde woman.

Michonne stood up, stepping around Rick to embrace her two closest friends. "Andrea! I didn't know you was coming?"

"I wasn't, but it's Friday and I'm dateless, so I figured, why not come out and play in some paint with my bestie," Andrea shrugged, twirling a blonde lock around her finger. "Maybe I might find a deep, artistic type here." She craned her neck, peering around the dim room as if she would find him by just looking.

"I don't know that the artistic types frequent here that much. More like people searching for them, but you never know. Keep those eyes open."

"I know mine are," Auntie Michelle said, taking a slow sip from her wine glass, grinning as she fluttered her lashes at Ezekiel.

"I didn't know your lovely aunt would be joining us tonight, Michonne," Ezekiel said in his deep baritone voice, returning Michelle's flirtatious smile. "Michelle, is it?"

"Well…" She heard Rick snickering behind her, thoroughly enjoying the exchange in front of him. Michonne had the type of people in her life that one couldn't must make up. There was never a dull moment.

"It is. I'm in town for the month," Michelle said suggestively as she leaned back against the bar, exchanging grins with Delilah and Calliope.

"Always a passing ship?" Ezekiel smoothly slipped into the seat Michonne had vacated. Rick, now sat awkwardly close to the flirting pair, his amusement clear on his face. "I hear you lead quite an interesting life."

Rick rose from his seat the bar, leaving the flirting pair to walk Michonne to front, his free hand loosely draped around her, as Andrea struck up a conversation with someone else. "You weren't wrong about her meaning what she says."

"Delilah and Calliope over there are probably leaving here tonight without Michelle," she snickered.

Throughout the relaxed painting lesson, Rick's eyes barely tear left Michonne. The brushstrokes on the easel in front of him bore very little resemblance to the painting a vibrant park with its dramatic foliage and the lone silhouette of a couple strolling.

He wasn't too bothered by it.

It was obvious she was comfortable with what she did and she enjoyed sharing her craft with others in an informal entertaining manner.

At the end of the night they laughed together at the monstrosity he created with his paintbrush. She called it his abstract masterpiece even with his misshapen moon, the trees looking like ghoulish hands attempting to steal souls, the park bench floating in midair, and the two stick figures in the center, one with red eyes and one without a head.

"It was a little hard to concentrate. I might just need some private lessons. You know, to slow things down and work on my area of weakness."

"Well this teacher is already all yours for the weekend." They made the way out to the main entryway of _Ezekiel's,_ Michonne attached to one of Rick's arm's and his painting clutched in the other. Most of the paint night attendees had already dispersed, leaving Rick and Michonne as some of the last to leave.

As Michonne predicted Delilah and Calliope departed for the evening behind Michelle and Ezekiel as the sole occupants of the bar. Their laughter echoed through the empty room as Rick and Michonne cleared out.

Michonne was surprised when she caught sight of her best friend's back when they entered the main entryway. "Andrea?"

The woman turned around and Michonne let out an audible gasp at her friend's look of frustration and anger. She let go of Rick, quickening her steps as she moved across the lounge area. "What's wrong? I thought you left."

Angry tears spilled from her friend's eyes as she let out a dry laugh. "I don't know why that asshole won't leave me the fuck alone."

"What happened?" Her eyes scanned the empty lot outside the glass doors.

"Somebody keyed 'Whore' across my car. I know it's him. I just know it."

"You're filing that order first thing Monday morning. This is ridiculous and it's really starting to scare me."

"What's going on?" Rick placed a protective hand on Michonne's lower back.

"This guy," she said absently, as an uncomfortable chill went through her. "He' s been stalking her."

"Is he somebody you know?" she could hear the agitation in his voice. "How long has this been happening?"

"Yes, I know him. It's Phillip from the cooking class." Andrea crossed her arms, glaring out into the distance. "I just called the cops, so I'm waiting for them. It's a fucking shame too because I met a really nice weirdo and I had to let him go to deal with this shit."

"There's probably security footage of the lot. How long ago did you call them?"

"Not long," she mumbled, playing with the edge of her nail. "They're probably going to think I'm crazy. I don't know."

Rick tilted his head over to the nearby couches, indicating they should go sit. "We'll wait with you. If you don't feel safe at home or you need somewhere to go to get away from everything, you should join us."

Michonne grabbed Andrea's hand giving it a comforting squeeze as the three of them sat down. The police arrived within minutes and they were soon joined by Ezekiel, who provided access to security footage, and Auntie Michelle, who didn't hesitate to boldly proclaim exactly what she would do if she ever saw Phillip (a man she's never seen before) in the streets.

The cops explained that if their findings confirmed it was Phillip, he could potentially be charged with felony vandalism. They also encouraged her to file a restraining order once the courts were open on Monday if she felt unsafe.

Through it all, Michonne had a visceral feeling within her that something else was amiss, as if they were being watched.

* * *

 **There you have it people. Let me know what you think in the reviews!**


	14. Chapter Fourteen: The Portrait

**Chapter Fourteen: The Portrait**

* * *

Rick woke on Saturday to Michonne sprawled against his body. His mouth curved into a smile as he admired the beautiful woman who was now an almost permanent fixture in his new life. He kissed her head softly as he untangled himself from her naked limbs easing out of his bed.

She whimpered softly, pulling the covers she hogged all night closer to her body. His eyes lingered on her for a while longer before he slipped into the bathroom. If it wasn't for the thoughts that plagued his mind, he would have "accidentally" woken her in hopes of a morning tryst.

He couldn't help but to think back on the whole Phillip debacle from the night before. Stalking wasn't something to be taken lightly.

Michonne was still fast asleep when he returned to the bedroom. Deciding to let her sleep more, he pulled on some pants and a gray t-shirt and made his way downstairs to the kitchen. Snoopy and Bear were at the bottom of the stairs excitedly wagging their tails as he passed.

"Morning," Andrea called, from the kitchen table when he entered. The smell of breakfast was in the air. "I made coffee. There's some breakfast too and green tea for our girl."

"Thanks," he said. "You didn't have to do that though."

"It's the least I can do. I just feel like I'm intruding on your weekend getaway," she cringed at how awkward her words sounded. "I just feel bad dragging the two of you into my all drama. I really wish I didn't. Michonne shouldn't have to babysit me."

"This isn't just drama, Andrea." Rick poured some coffee into a mug. "This guy could very well be dangerous. I think he is dangerous if he's at the point of stalking. He's doing these little things now, but it can escalate into something worse and he could hurt you or somebody around you. I've seen it before."

"I wouldn't let him hurt her," she said earnestly, knowing his mind was on the woman upstairs who they both loved.

"That's not something you can really promise or control. I think the best course of action is to deal with this now. This guy has to go before it even gets to the point of physical danger," he said. "A restraining order is good and all, but I'll still worry. I don't want anybody getting hurt."

"Me too." She crossed her arms looking away and nothing in particular. "How the hell did I fuck up so badly?"

"This really has nothin' to do with you. It's all him." He took a sip from the mug and immediately spit back the bitter grainy content. "Ugh…" he wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. "What the hell is this?"

"Coffee?" she said, with an apologetic smile, shrugging her shoulders. "I always sucked at making it. I'm usually a Starbucks kind of girl."

"Thanks for telling me that before I drank it," Rick said, sarcastically as he searched desperately for something to chase the taste. "Did you not taste it first?"

"I was just trying to extend a gesture of thanks," she said. "I was so sure I got it right this time. I even googled it."

"Morning." Michonne's sleepy voice came from the doorway as she strolled into the kitchen. "You didn't wake me."

"You were knocked out." He moved his tongue around attempting to avoid the rancid taste before lifting a glass of water to his lips.

"You too are so fucking sweet my teeth hurt," Andrea said looking between the pair with an adoring grin. "Well don't let me stop you from getting your morning kiss and cuddle." She stood up from the table, heading towards the living room in an attempt to give them their privacy. "I'm gonna go make a few phone calls. I need to find a reliable hitman."

Michonne laughed, shaking her head. "She's so crazy."

"She's crazy alright. Your friend just tried to poison me," Rick said in a deadpan voice.

"What?" Her eyes widened in surprise. "Coffee again?"

"Yeah."

Michonne nodded knowingly, stepping toward him to wrap her hands around his waist. "She never gets it right. I don't even understand it. It's a talent, I swear."

"How is that even possible? Even I don't screw up coffee," he chuckled, looking back at the breakfast spread feeling sorry for his taste buds. "You think it's safe to eat?"

"I know she means well, but," Michonne scrunched up her nose, peaking at the display. She shuffled over to the food to investigate. "You know, it doesn't look bad at all. Maybe she's had some practice." She lifted a piece of bacon to her mouth. "It's not even burnt."

"I'll make some fresh coffee for us to have with our bacon and toast then. No way in hell I'm touching those eggs."

She grinned at him, moving whatever looked safe to eat to the table, while he started on the coffee. Once they he had his replacement coffee and she had her tea, they sat together nibbling on their breakfast while chatting about the lighter moments of paint night, like Ezekiel's newfound romance.

Talking, like silence, came with ease for them.

"Okay you lovebirds." They looked up as Andrea pranced back into the kitchen wearing her coat and boots. "I'm off. Thanks for the hospitality. I would have honestly been a basket case if I had went home to my apartment last night."

"Where're you going?" Michonne asked.

"I've got a lot of shit to do and I'm not letting this man terrorize my life and make me live in fear. He scratched my car, big fucking deal. What else is he gonna do? It's obvious he's a coward," she said rifling through her purse. She spoke with boldness, but there was an obvious fearfulness behind her hard words. "I can go out in broad daylight on my own."

"You sure you don't want me to come with you?" Michonne asked and Rick's eyes snapped to her looking slightly agitated at the prospect. "I could get some things done, myself."

"Thanks, but I'm good, babe. I think I just need some time alone to clear my head," she explained.

"What about your car?" asked Rick.

"I already called an Uber," she said absently as she tapped away at her phone. "It should be here soon."

Michonne didn't want to appear pushy since it was obvious Andrea wanted to be alone and her friend had the tendency to be stubborn. "Well call me later when you're finished with your…stuff. Where'd you want to go tonight, by the way?"

"Oh," Andrea looked up from her phone with an apologetic grimace. "I meant to tell you last night. Rain check for tonight? I kind of have a date."

"A date?"

Andrea sighed feeling like a teenager in her parent's kitchen with the way Rick and Michonne sat staring at her over their mugs. She knew they both cared a great deal about her well-being and were equally terrified as her about the stalker situation, but her pride wouldn't let her stay or be comforted.

Every time she saw them it made her feel like the most idiotic person on the planet. Her best friend went into the home of a perfect stranger and found love, and somehow Andrea ended up with the psychopathic stalker. She would just have to try her luck again and hope for the best.

"The guy from last night," she said. "I'm not going to let Phillip ruin him for me, but fingers crossed he's not a psychopath. He didn't give off stalker vibes. Plus, I'm not getting any younger. I need to find someone to start producing a bunch of babies with," she joked. "You better clear your schedule to plan my wedding. I already cleared mine for yours."

Rick's eyes were on Michonne then as Andre's words repeated in his mind. He noticed how she avoided looking his way, and suddenly found the table very interesting.

 _Marriage?_

Was that something in their future? He hadn't given it much thought before, but upon hearing it, he couldn't stop thinking about it. He knew without a doubt he wanted it with her. He wanted it all.

 _Grimes would fit her._ It wasperfection in his mind.

"How about a double date?" Michonne asked, still uneasy with the way Phillip knew where they were the previous night. "Rick and I could come too, if you want a buffer or something."

"I'm fine guys. Really," Andrea said, biting her lip. "Ooh my ride's here!"

Michonne stood up ambling over to hug her friend. "Make sure you have your pepper spray."

"Always." She held up her hands in a fighting position. "And I remember a thing or two from the week of kickboxing lessons I took with you. They don't stand a chance. See you Monday, babe!"

She waved the love-struck pair goodbye, quickly slipping out of the house and away from their sympathetic eyes.

"Any other plans for today?" Rick asked, taking a dramatic sip from his mug.

A mischievous smile formed on Michonne's lips. "Yeah. I had a thing or two in mind."

"Uh oh," he chuckled, putting down his mug and clapping his hands together. "Sounds like I'm gonna like this one. Lay it on me."

"You ever been to the Old Town Waterfront?"

Rick frowned. "Not where I thought you were going with that but go on."

"We'll have plenty of time for _that_ when we get back," she said, her eyes shining with happiness. "They're having a flea market fair thing today. Lots of cool knickknacks and other stuff. There's a local "hippie" commune that comes up and they have the best quilts and veggies. All sorts of stuff. We should take Carl and André sometime, but I really want to pick up a few things."

"Sounds like a plan," he said. "You had me at 'when we get back'."

"Maybe even now if we're quick," she said suggestively as she slipped one of her spaghetti straps off her shoulder rising from her chair.

He let his eyes slowly rake over her. "Well, I'm sure the fair ain't going nowhere anytime soon. We might as well enjoy ourselves a little."

* * *

Rick was enraptured by Michonne's exuberant spirit as they walked along the waterfront taking in the displays. With Spring at their heels, the weather was comfortable enough to roam around and interact with the strange people from a local commune nestled deep into the Virginia woods.

"I've actually been there," Michonne told him as she munched on some homemade popcorn. "It was during my journey of self-discovery." Her tone was sarcastic, but there was contentment there. "After I left Georgia, I came back for some of my things and my aunt brought me there. It's where Calliope is from. One of the ladies made the cutest booties and a blanket for André."

"So, what is it?" he asked, jokingly. "Like a nudist colony or something?"

"Rick." She playfully shoved his shoulder. "It's just people living an alternative lifestyle. They grow their own food and they share everything with each other. They don't have to worry about the things everybody else stresses about. It was…different, but a truly enjoyable experience. And they don't call them nudist colonies anymore."

Michonne's unique perspective always left him enthralled. Whenever they had discussions she always had well thought out and insightful opinions on everything from music to politics. She's had her unhappy moments, she's made mistakes, but it was clear that she came to terms with everything in such a wonderful unsullied way.

She preferred to live her life in the here and now and she didn't get caught up on the little bothersome things in life. It was refreshing to be around someone with such ease.

"Oh, good they have them!" she exclaimed, pointing to a nearby stand and grabbing his hand tugging him along excitedly. "Look at those colors!"

At the stand, they sold beautifully hand-woven hammocks that looked like they took hours of meticulous hard work to complete. Michonne explained how much she wanted one for her balcony as the young caramel-skinned woman behind the stand showed off the color varieties.

"They're really comfortable," the young woman said with a warm smile.

"How long does it take to make one of these?" Rick asked, leaning forward to get a closer look.

"A day or three," she replied. "It depends on how many hands we have to make the labor light."

"That's impressive."

Michonne settled on a teal color before asking about a woman who went by the name Dusk. The same woman who made the booties and blanket.

"Dusk is around. She's getting older now, so she prefers to stay behind and look after things," the woman answered. "That's cool that you know her. I think I remember you, but I was a lot younger though. You and your aunt should come visit again sometime. What were your names again?"

"Rick."

"Michonne. What's yours?"

"I'm Asha."

"Well it was nice meeting you Asha," Michonne said. "I can't wait to set this up at my place."

"Wanna grab a quick bite before we head home?" Rick asked as they strolled away, him holding her purchase while she clutched his hand. Something told him they wouldn't get much cooking done when they got back home.

"Good idea," she nodded shooting him a wink. "We'll need our energy for later. I'm in the mood for something spicy. There's a nice place down that way."

When they returned to the farm after lunch, Michonne bounded straight for the stairs, leaving Rick staring at her retreating form with a bemused smile. He shrugged out of his jacket, kicking of his boots before following her up the stairs bypassing the two overexcited dogs who followed him up the stairs.

His bedroom as well as Carl's were empty, so he strolled toward the last room at the end of the hall wondering what on earth she was up to.

When he entered the bare unfinished bedroom, he found her seated tailor style on a mattress with her legs crossed under her. He didn't know when she did it, but she had brought a table to the room, spread out her painting materials, a professional camera, drinks and had an easel set up.

He leaned against the door jamb waiting for an explanation.

"I'm painting. I got an idea when we were on the waterfront. I might need you to pose for me."

His eyebrows shot up suggestively. "Naked? I don't know how I feel about being covered in paint but if you're into that I don't mind being a freak with you."

"I only planned on getting paint on the easel," she laughed, pointed to said object. "But, now that you mention it, I'm definitely not completely opposed to some nudity though."

Rick's eyes took in her lithe form. Their quickie that morning wasn't nearly enough. He reached around, grabbing Bear by the collar gently nudging him and Snoopy out of the room. "Only if you lose the clothes too," he said, once he locked the door and turned back to face her. "I'm starting to think you have a thing for paint."

Carl was out with Carol for the weekend, but he wasn't taking chances.

She raised a brow, accepting his challenge and slowly rose to her feet and slipped her blouse over her head tossing it in a corner. "Your shirt," she told him as he slipped off her long flowing patterned skirt along with the leggings she wore underneath.

She stood naked before him, as he followed. He moved slowly and deliberately toward her, holding on to her shoulders and he leaned in to kiss her. Her mouth hot against his and her hands slowly moved down his sculpted body, pausing right above his growing erection.

"Why do I get the feeling I'm not going to get ant actual painting done?"

"No idea," he said huskily, shrugging his shoulders as his lips moved across her collarbone. "We got all the time in the world and I can stay in position for a while."

Her hand slipped lower cupping him all while they retained steady eye contact. He swooped her into his arms before she could even blink and she wrapped her legs around his waist to keep her body upright against his. "Better make use of that time then."

He spun them around, pinning her against the wall as he adjusted her legs and guided himself toward her. They moved with more fervor and quickness than with their slow after breakfast tryst in which she ended up spread out on the kitchen table.

When he slid himself in with a swift thrust, they locked eyes and she grasped the hair at the name of his neck, fervently bringing his lips to hers in an impassioned battle of a kiss.

He braced himself against the wall behind her as he pulled back his hips, eliciting a loud moan against his lips from her as he pushed himself forward again. She locked her ankles together behind him, willing him closer as he moved forward and backward against her body as his hand slid between their bodies rubbing expertly against her and leaving her lightheaded with sensory overload.

He filled her with himself, pressing their bodies together as if one. Eyes, shut, they savored the intense charge between them until they lose it, gasping and panting together, warm breath against skin. They whispered words of love and lust through the whirlpool of pleasure that seemed to touch every nerve in their connected bodies.

* * *

"What's funny?" He sat upright on the mattress with his back against the wall, his legs hanging casually near the edge. Michonne was seated on a low stool across from him. He had pulled on a pair of boxers and her his shirt and an apron, because otherwise their minds and bodies would be lingering on distractions.

"Andrea just texted me," she said, still smiling down at her phone. "I think she's _really_ going to enjoy her date. That woman is a trip, but I love her."

"She's still got her pepper spray, right?" he asked popping a tortilla chip in his mouth. Michonne touted it as one of the top after-sex snacks, after leftover take out and ice cream. They had neither of the latter, so chips it was.

"Uh huh. That's what she texted me a picture of." She flipped the phone around for him to see Andrea in a pouty-faced selfie with her pepper spray.

He chuckled, shaking his head at their antics. He watched as she slipped her phone into the apron pocket, squinting at the canvas as she mixed the paint on the palette.

"Good to see she's having some fun."

"Nothing will stop her fun. I still worry about that creep though," she sighed. "I try not to think of bad things happening. I don't want to put any negative vibes out there, but I had a really bad feeling when we were out there last night. I don't know how to explain it. I'm just waiting for Monday and for everything works out well with Maggie."

"Your friend from law school," he nodded remembering.

She shrugged in response. "Well we were actually friends from long before then, but…we drifted apart, I guess." He could tell there was more there, but from her visible discomfort it was clear it wasn't something she wanted to get into. "We were more of acquaintances than friends in law school."

"But you keep in touch now."

"I try to."

He decided to redirect the conversation to a lighter subject and one he had a particular interest in. "Tell me about your time in Georgia." He shut his eyes, leaning back against the wall, prepared to listen to her melodic lulling voice. "That where André was born, right?"

"Yeah," she smiled at the memories. There were more good ones than bad during that chapter of her life. "I went to see my grandmother. She always had a way of making me feel better and I guess I was looking for a specific kind of comfort during that time. Somebody that wouldn't judge me, you know?"

Michonne recounted the events leading to her appearance on her grandmother's door step after ditching her own wedding. She had been fully expecting an empty house and was pleasantly surprised to find Auntie Michelle, who was passing through Georgia, lying in an orange hammock on the front porch dressed as if it wasn't November.

"It was crazy," she laughed. "Here was this…flamboyant, fun, idealistic woman who I probably saw once or twice a year growing up and for some reason, I just launched myself in her arms, and started bawling my eyes out. The best part was that she never asked questions, didn't push me for information. She just let me get everything I was holding in out."

Michelle had informed her of her mother's worry and frequent call despite Michonne sending a quick text that she was fine while on the train. Once Grandma Westbrook returned from her wedding that never was, Michonne spent the next several months with the warmest and most inspiring women in her life.

"I spent a lot of time painting," she said as she made broad sweeping strokes with the charcoal. "I hadn't painted in years. I also picked up photography and I dedicated my time to becoming a better person for my André. I wrote to my baby every day. Grandma lives on this massive expanse of land, so it was great for self-reflection. It was so peaceful and quiet. I try to go back every year."

"And that's how you knew?"

She nodded, understanding exactly what he was asking without need for further elaboration. That was exactly how she knew what she made the right decisions. Perhaps they were made in the wrong way, but they were right, nonetheless.

"I was about seven months pregnant when I finally came back up here for a few things. It was like March or something and my aunt came with me and we ended up making a stop at the commune from today," she said, with a laugh. "Knowing my Auntie, that's the least unusual thing that could have happened, but I admit I was a little weirded out at first."

"I knew they were nudists! It explains so much."

"They are not nudists, Rick," she said bursting into a fit of giggles. "I promise. I was expecting them to whip of their clothes too though. Especially after meeting Dusk. She was a unique character."

"Maybe they secretly are," he shrugged. "You never know. No judgement from me though. I thoroughly enjoy nudity."

"It's actually a really family-oriented place," she continued, ignoring her favorite jokester. "It was beautiful how everybody looked out for each other and was really chill. I admired that aspect, even though it's not a lifestyle I personally would be a part of. They go without internet and I don't think I can handle that.

"Anyway, somewhere during that time, I realized that I should be living for me and not for other people and I should do what I truly love and the hell with everything else."

"And you went back to Georgia after?"

"Yep," she answered, pausing her brushstrokes as she stared at the canvas. "My mother wasn't too happy about it and Michael was pissed. He accused me of trying to run off with his kid to be with another man and all kinds of crazy outlandish crap. I didn't need that kind of negativity in my life. Especially not while pregnant."

"To think you were so close," he hummed, remembering his own difficulties during the same time. They were less than an hour away from each other. They could have unknowingly crossed each other's path in a crowded city, but for reasons beyond their understanding they would cross paths years later in a new state under perfect circumstances.

Rick turned her words over in his mind, watching how the afternoon sun glinted through the window pane setting a shimmery gold halo around her. He grabbed her camera, she discarded on the mattress next to him, examining it closely. "You use this much?"

Her eyes flitted up from the canvas. "Not much lately. I mostly took pictures of André and Snoopy though. It's still just a hobby."

"A hobby, huh," he hummed, lifting the viewfinder to his eye and locating her ethereal form and holding her at the center. His index finger hovered over the shutter button as he attempted to capture the allure he saw every time he had the pleasure of laying eyes on her.

The shutter produced a loud snap as the camera fired, capturing her image. Her eyes slowly rose from the canvas as a smile formed on her lips. "You take a picture of me?"

"Yep." He held the camera away, grinning mischievously at her. "Too pretty not to. Did I mess you up?"

She shook her head. "You're good."

They slipped into a comfortable silence, shuttering sounds coming from the camera as he snapped a picture every now and then as she spread colors across the canvas. The photographs, while clearly taken by someone with no prior experience, were a visual feat in Rick's eyes. They captured something he couldn't quite explain.

"It's done for now," she said finally, dropping her brush and rising from the stool and stretching her arms.

"Let's see it," he said, rubbing his hands together as she turned the easel to face him.

It wasn't a portrait in the classic sense. He could make out aspects of a face that perfectly resembled his between the dramatic swooping brush strokes and the blues and greens. He didn't quite know how to explain it, but he supposed it might be considered abstract.

"It's mostly from memory." Michonne pressed her lips together fighting back a smile. "You were just really hot sitting over there all posed up, so I didn't say anything. Plus, I knew you'd just distract me if I did."

"That's some serious talent," he said, more in awe of her than the image. "You really amaze me."

 _Only one more day._ One day until she left to go back to Alexandria where they would spend another week apart.

"What?" she asked, furrowing her brow and tilting her head slightly. She slowly shuffled over to the makeshift bed, scooting close to where he sat.

"I miss you already so I'm sittin' here plotting how to keep you here forever." He wrapped an arm around her, squeezing her close to his body.

She lay her head on his shoulder, staring at the painting across from them. He couldn't quite see her expression. "Forever huh?"

"And then some."

"It's the same for me too, you know," she said softly as she twisted her body to rest her legs in his lap. "That's being in love, I guess."

* * *

 **That's all for now. I've been meaning to post this sooner, but I've had a super busy few weeks. Thanks for reading their laid back weekend day! More to come soon.**

 **Let me know your thoughts in the reviews.**


	15. Chapter Fifteen: The False Identity

**I'm back! Sorry for the long wait. It's been difficult getting motivated to finish the chapter. I hope you all enjoy!**

* * *

 **Chapter Fifteen: The False Identity**

Michonne slipped into the empty chair at the table for four, catching the end of the introductions between her childhood friend, her cousin and her best friend in adulthood. "I'm so sorry I'm late, ladies."

"It's fine." Andrea waved a hand, taking a sip of her red wine. "We haven't even been here that long."

"I had to meet with André's piano teacher and get some other things settled since he's gonna be in Vermont with his Dad this week."

"Ah motherhood." Maggie smiled fondly. "Glenn and I are so looking forward to that in a few months."

"Oh are you…?"

Maggie nodded, biting her lip and a chorus of congratulations and hugs followed.

"I can't wait to have kids. Preferably with a sane man with no criminal background," Andrea said. "They had better get my good looks too. Michonne got lucky and managed to spit out her clone. How's my favorite kid in the world doing by the way?"

"Aww, I haven't seen him since he was a baby," Maggie added. "I know he must have gotten so big, I probably wouldn't recognize him."

"He's good and he's growing so much every day. I wish I could just keep him tiny forever. I actually have to go pick him up from his lessons in about two hours. He's off school for the rest of the week so it's gonna be bring your kid to work day tomorrow and Wednesday."

"Hell yeah! I'm going to have a partner in crime. Sorry about hijacking your lunch date, by the way," she added apologetically. Michonne and Sasha already had lunch scheduled as part of their unofficial reconciliation attempts, and Andrea and Maggie were simply last minute additions to the party.

"Oh it's totally fine Andrea," Sasha assured her. "Michonne and I have plenty of time to talk about all that boring wedding stuff. I'm happy to have lunch with you all. Maggie and I haven't met before, but she tells me you two were friends since you were about ten, Michonne. I don't remember her from birthday parties or anything. Then again my memory can be crap."

"We were classmates at boarding school and practically inseparable," Maggie replied. "We actually went to Georgetown together too." She left out being an attendee at Michonne's wedding to Michael that never was.

Michonne opened her menu even those she knew exactly what she wanted to order, having frequented the restaurants on many occasions when she and Andrea needed a break from work. She tried to remember the when their close friendship shifted to barely an acquaintanceship, but she couldn't quite pinpoint the exact moment, if it was even one moment in time. The change was surely gradual. It may have partially stemmed from them finding new friend groups and her need to be _better_ in the way her mother wanted.

"How'd it go today, by the way?"

Andrea rolled her eyes and took a large gulp from her wine glass , before she started recounting her morning. "So, I went to the General District Court this morning and filed the temporary order. I was actually hoping that piece of paper would keep him away. I mean, I never liked that was entirely dependent on him following it. Phillip never struck me as the type of man to follow orders, but I did that shit anyway."

Maggie glanced up from her phone wearing a cautious expression. "We might have an even bigger problem though. I've been looking further into this guy and it seems like Philip Blake isn't who he says he is."

"Does he have a criminal record or something?" Michonne asked. "Is he a wanted man?"

"Worst," she answered. "He's a dead man."

There were audible gasps around the table. "Dead as in…?"

"Gone. Buried. Does not exist anymore. Hasn't existed for about two years. That dead."

"Perfect. Even more bullshit," Andrea groaned loudly, slamming her glass down. This earned them a cautious glance from nearby waitstaff. "This whole situation just keeps getting fucking better. So is the real one the married one or not? What the hell? Am I being punished?"

"Well the Sheriff's office is going to have a hell of a time serving him those papers then," Sasha said after she recovered from the shock of what they heard. Andrea and Maggie had briefly filled her in on the general details of the stalking ex-boyfriend, but she never realized how bad of a predicament the woman was in. "This is so scary. Who is this guy?"

"I don't know, but it looks like I'm gonna need to buy a gun or hire a bodyguard or something. That restraining order isn't gonna do shit."

Maggie patted Andrea's shoulder comfortingly. "We'll get to the bottom of this. He'll be sorry he ever messed with us."

Andrea looked over at Michonne, a smile playing on her lips. She was never one to let things bother her for too long. "Wanna pick up kickboxing with me again bestie?"

 **~TFW~**

The afternoon sun shone bright and bold on the early April afternoon, when Michonne and André approached Rick's farm. "I swear this whether doesn't know what it wants to be," she mumbled as she shrugged out of her cardigan. One day the weather would be near freezing and the next, it would be like early summer.

"Hey Michonne! André!" Carl emerged from behind the house, Bear hot on his heels.

"Carl!" André slipped his hand out of his mother's bounding over to the boy and his dog.

He stopped a few paces in front of them, leaning over to catch his breath. "Wanna see something really cool?"

"Yeah!" André looked back at his mother for confirmation and she nodded, reminding them to be careful.

"Come on!" Carl took off running with André and the Bear attempting to keep pace with their much shorter legs. "Hey Daryl, you have to show André! Do it again!"

"Don't run," Michonne called after them. "Take you're your time. I don't see a fire!"

The front door of the house swung open and Rick stepped outside, wiping his hands on a rag. "What is this beautiful voice I'm hearing out here?"

"We were in the neighborhood."

"That right?"

Michonne strolled towards him as he leaned against the railing taking her in. Once she near him, he pulled her into his arms wasting no time in greeting her with a kiss. "What's this cool thing that Daryl can do?"

"Trust me, you'll see soon enough. Carl is obsessed with his party trick. He's been asking him to do it all morning."

"Party trick? What? Like break an apple in half without touching it? Nothing weird, right?"

His simply shrugged, grinning mischievously and Michonne knew it was because he was holding off to see her reaction. She was both curious and uneasy about the possible -ick factor of Daryl's hidden talent.

"How did things go with Andrea by the way?" he inquired as they began their stroll toward the place the two boys disappeared and were undoubtedly giving the laconic Daryl a hard time. This may not have been what he was imagining when he signed up for the job, but he seemed to take everything in stride.

"Well, she filed a temporary order, but it seems we might have a bigger problem."

"What kind of problem?"

She sighed, rubbing her forehead as she thought back to the conversation from earlier. "That Phillip Blake has apparently been dead for a little over two years."

He stopped in his tracks, his eyes widening. "Holy shit!"

"That's one way to put it. Either he has a dead man's identity or he faked his death two years ago."

"Something about that guy has alway been off. He's got that crazy behind the eyes look."

"I just hope they find his ass to give us all peace of mind. I don't like that he's out there possibly watching every move my friend makes. Andrea is scared out of her mind, even though she tries to put on a tough front."

Rick took her hand in his, squeezing gently as they continued walking in silence towards the barn where their boys were.

"Michonne, Daryl can make milk squirt out of his eye!" Carl shouted as they entered. "Come see. It's so cool!"

Michonne immediately shut her eyes turning away from the shaggy haired man and his repulsive couldn't imagine anything she wanted to see less as she hid her face in Rick's chest. His body shook with his deep laughter at her reaction. "Eww! No way! I have a thing about eyes! Eye injuries are my biggest fear."

Andre tugged at the edge of her sweater, his voice filled with whimpers of mirth as tried to persuade her to see the trick. "It goes in his nose and comes out in his eye. Look."

"Thanks, but I'm good baby." She moved her face away to look up at Rick with a comically horrified expression. "Is it from the cows?"

He wrapped his arms around her waist, still laughing at her reaction. "Yeah. Fresh milk."

"Oh my God! Why?"

"You don't want to see, Mommy?"

"Mommy's scared of eye milk," Rick told him with a grin. "She doesn't want to see."

André moved to Rick's side, attempting to comfort his mother in the way she usually did for him when he was afraid of something. He stood on the tip of his toes, rubbing her arm. "It's not scary Mommy. I'm not scared. It's only milk."

"I don't wanna see!"she squealed, smiling at his sweet words and attempts to comfort her as she covered her face with her hands. She shivered at the mental picture of Daryl snorting milk through his nose and squirting out of his eye. "I'm happy you're braver than me though. Let me know when it's over, okay?"

"Okay," he said, sweetly. "He's all done now."

She turned around, peeking with one eye to find Daryl with milkless eyes. "I'm sorry but that is the most…" she pointed to her arm, shivering. "See? Goosebumps. It's cool you can do that but I have a weird thing about eyes, things coming out of them, and just messing with them in general."

"That's alright." Daryl shrugged as he wiped off light remnants of the milk from his face. "I would have had to do that about fifty more times for that one. i don't know if that's healthy." He looked pointedly at Carl.

"It is pretty gross Michonne," Carl agreed with a grin. "But it's freaking awesome! He could try to set a world record."

Rick lightly flicked the back of his head. "Language!"

"Freaking isn't technically a bad word and you say way worse all the time."

"I'm an adult and I don't want to hear anything about technicalities. You hear me?"

"Okay, okay, sorry Dad," Carl nodded, his eyes searching for more hijinks. "Come on, André! Wanna help groom the horses?"

"Yeah!"

"He really likes the company," Rick said, shaking his head as they ran off together. "I think he gets bored with just me around. He likes playing the big brother role."

"André too. I figured he shouldn't be cooped up indoors all day," she said. "He loves hanging with Mom, but some fresh open air is nice every now and then."

"Will the Vermont trip on Wednesday be the longest he's been away from you?"

She hadn't given it much thought before, but now she realized that it was true. "It will be. With the arrangement Michael and I have, I don't think we've been apart longer than three days actually."

"You'll miss him."

"I will," she said. "He's my whole world."

Carl led one of the smaller ponies, securing him to a post with a quick-release knot. He grabbed the materials as he started explaining things to a very attentive André, who stood nodding his little head at everything that came out of Carl's mouth.

"You have to stand like this," he said, instructing André on proper stable etiquette.

Rick made his way over to the two boys and the pony to monitor them more closely as Carl started running a rubber curry comb against his coat.

"It's like the ones where Grandma takes me, Mommy."

Once they were done with the simpler part of grooming, the boys ran off to the house so Carl could show André his newly painted room and Bear's new doggie bed. He was more active than Michonne had ever seen him.

"I'm always left with the unglamorous part of the job," Rick chuckled, as he finished picking the Pony's hooves. "So what are you up to later?"

"André and I have a dinner date with aunty Andrea."

Rick untied the pony, leading him back into the stable. "Really? At her place?" Although he tried to keep his tone casual, she heard the strain in his voice, the apprehension of of the unpredictability of Phillip's behavior hanging in the air.

"At a restaurant. She hasn't been back at her place since Saturday."

"Okay. Just…" he sighed, locking the stable door. "Keep your eyes open, okay?"

She nodded. "I worry about it too, but Andrea's right. We can't like in total fear. Besides we have a week's worth of kickboxing expertise to defend ourselves."

"Expertise huh?" he chuckled. "I'd love to see those moves sometime. I could see you kicking some serious ass."

She playfully winked at him, licking her lips. "Maybe you will see them. If you're good."

"We've got company, babe."

" _I_ know that."

Rick's eyes shifted over to Daryl, who was now leading out one of the horses and she could see on his face that he was briefly considering how much they could get away with. "Come on," he finally said. "You should see what we've been doing to that room."

The boys were already out of the house when they approached. "Good job Mommy!" André yelled, waving at his mother as he ran out behind Carl and Bear.

"Thanks! Good job for what?"

"My room," said Carl, skipping down the front steps, two at a time.

As André hopped off the porch after him, also attempting to skip the last two steps, he stepped on his untied shoelace, shifting awkwardly as he briefly went airborne before falling against the concrete path. Michonne heard the loud snap before the tortured cries of her little boy.

"André!" Michonne ran over, falling to her knees at his side attempting to survey the damage. She hoped for just a scratch but the sound she heard from his hand had her heart racing.

"Ow!" he wailed as fat tears spilled down his cheeks.

"Let me see baby," she said, attempting to get a look at the hand cradled against his side. She felt Rick kneel next to her.

"No!" André screamed when she touched his hand.

"I know baby, I know," Michonne cooed tearfully. "But you have to let me see, okay?"

He sobbed harder. "My hand."

"Dad, is he okay?" Carl asked, in a small voice, tears beginning to well in his own eyes.

"I think it's his wrist," Rick said, carefully pulling André into a sitting position, avoiding contact with his wrist. Carefully, he turned the injured side toward Michonne who could already see the swelling around his wrist. "Daryl get an ice pack."

Daryl, who had came rushing out in all the commotion, ran pat them, toward the house. "Sure boss."

"He'll be okay Carl."

Michonne tenderly ran her hand atop her sons head as Rick started making a makeshift splint to loosely keep his injured hand in place. Daryl returned soon after with a cold compress wrapped in a cloth and Michonne applied it gently as Rick lifted André to carry him to the car.

She sat in the back with her tearful André and a sniffling Carl as they drove to the hospital.

Upon initial observation of André's wrist, the doctor informed them that it may indeed be broken. He ordered an X-ray to confirm that there was a fracture and to determine what type. At that point, Andre's tears had subsided and he was taken with Carl's attempts to cheer him up.

"You acted pretty quickly back there," Michonne commented. "I was kind of in panic mode for a minute."

"Carl was an active kid. I've been there before. These things happen."

She smiled, nodding her head. "Oh i know. I remember when I was like nine or something and I broke my arm in three places. My mom was pissed because it basically happened when I was trying to do some stupid dare my cousins came up with."

"Peer pressure?" he tsked.

"I had my moments of weakness."

"Okay," the technician rejoined them. "Are you ready to see a picture of your bones, buddy?"

"Will it hurt?" he asked, shrinking closer to his mother.

"No way," she answered, smiling down at him. "X-rays don't hurt. I've had one before and it didn't hurt a bit."

"Me too," Rick added. "And Carl had one too when he was around your age. It's just a picture of inside your body. You like pictures, right?

He nodded his head, his deep brown eyes wide and earnest. "Yeah."

"Do you still have my X-rays Dad?" Carl asked.

Rick considered all the things that were laying in boxes still unpacked from their move. "We had a copy on a CD or something. Must be somewhere in the house. We'd have to do some huntin' if you wanna see it."

"We can compare our bone pictures André," Carl said, grinning at the younger boy, in further attempts to cheer him up and offer encouragement.

"Okay."

"And you'll get a cool cast in whatever color you want," the technician added as he brought over a lead apron for Michonne and a smaller one for André. "All your friends can sign it."

"And my Mommy and Rick," he added.

"Anyone you want," the man smiled. "So you're gonna sit up here." He lifted André up and placed him accordingly. "Mom, I'm going to ask you to stand on this side of him. André I'm going to need you to place your hand right here," he pointed. "This won't take long at all."

With his mother at his side, André waited patiently and quietly as the technician took the X rays of his hand. Once they were finished, Andre got a lollipop (he asked for a second one for Carl) and they returned to the waiting area where Michonne got out her phone to alert Andrea and Michael about André.

 _ **Might miss or be late for dinner Drea. I'm at the hospital with André. He fell and broke his wrist.**_

As she scrolled to find Michael's name on her messages list, she carefully chose her words.

 _ **Hey. Just letting you know I'm at the hospital with André. He has a broken wrist, but he's doing alright otherwise. Just got done doing the x-ray.**_

A response from Andrea came in almost immediately after she sent the message.

 _ **Aww I'll stop by later. I'll bring take out instead. Tell my little buddy to feel better 3**_

"Got your favorite," Rick said, handing her her drink of choice as he rejoined them. "And something for the two of you."

"Thanks, by the way."

"For what?"

"Being here," she said. "I feel bad that I'm probably dragging you away from your work to sit here."

"Michonne, I work for myself, he fell off my stepping stool, and I love you guys. I wouldn't be anywhere else."

There were some more tears when André was finally in the cast room.

"It's all my fault isn't it?" Carl asked Michonne in a small apologetic voice once the crying had stopped and the doctor was placing the cast.

"Oh honey no," she said, soothingly. "This isn't anyone's fault, alright. It happens. Next time, we'll just have to be more careful about climbing things."

André ended up selecting a green (his favorite color) covering for his cast and decided that he wanted Carl to be the first one to add something to it once they got home. The doctor walked them through proper care and the amount of time it way take to heal.

Michonne's phone buzzed with Michael's reply.

 _ **Do you need me to come? I'm about three hours away, but my mom can stop by the hospital if you need her.**_

"Okay we're all done here," the doctor said. "You'll be healed up in no time."

"He'll be with his Dad in Vermont from Wednesday going into the weekend," Michonne added. "Is there anything else I should take into consideration. I want to make sure I give him enough information."

"Just follow the proper care instructions, apply ice if necessary and if he feels any pain in his fingers or forearm bring him in to see a doctor," the man said, looking at Rick as if he was said father and he was laying out the instructions for him.

"Got it. Thanks." She quickly typed a reply to Michael.

 _ **It's okay. We're just wrapping up here anyway. Thanks. I'll call you later with more details.**_

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think.

That season finale last night was something. So many conflicting feelings about that.


	16. Chapter Sixteen: The Fiancée

**Chapter Sixteen: The Fiancée**

* * *

"I swear I'm going to smack this damn woman," Michonne muttered into the phone to an amused Rick. "I'm said coming!" She shouted, jogging toward the front door where Andrea was continually ringing the doorbell.

"Finally!" She stepped past Michonne into the apartment. "Your cowboy here or something? I've been at the door forever."

Michonne pointed to the phone in her ear that Andrea did not appear to notice. "See, she's already questioning me. I'm going to have to have a serious talk with the doorman for letting any 'ol body up here." The cowboy in question let out a belly laugh at Michonne's playful annoyance with her friend.

"Hey Rick!" Andrea called out loud enough for him to hear. She took Michonne's hand, bringing the phone to her ear so she could talk. "You two can have phone sex later. It's my turn to get all her attention."

"Andrea!" Michonne rolled her eyes as Andrea listened intently with a grin on her face to Rick's response.

"Oh really?" Her grin grew even more mischievous. "I didn't know it was like that. Don't worry. I definitely will. I brought them dinner and everything." She waved the large brown paper bag around for emphasis. "Don't you worry your little curly head. She'll call you later and no, I'm not going to poison her."

With that, Andrea disconnected the call, flipping her hair over her shoulder as she handed the phone back to her friend. "You two are too fucking adorable. So where's the little prince?" Her eyes darting around the apartment. "I brought him some sweet stuff."

"He's knocked out." Michonne took the bags with their takeout from Andrea as she led the way to the living room.

"Poor little guy. So is it really broken? What did the Doctor say? What did Michael's mama say?"

"One question at a time please." Michonne placed the food down on the table, sinking down onto a large pillow. "I'm going to tell you everything anyway."

After the day she had, she wanted nothing more than to sink into a calming slumber, but at the same time, she was glad to have her friend to vent to.

"His wrist is fractured so he's going to have to wear a cast for some weeks, but otherwise he's doing okay now."

"Damn, I still remember when I broke my arm trying to play basketball with my older brothers while standing on a chair. I had to learn the hard way that that wasn't the best idea. They got in way more trouble than I did though. My mother thought my arm was punishment enough." She shuddered dramatically at the memory. "So, the wicked witch of the east was just here?"

"Yeah she left about a half-hour ago. She was waiting in the lobby when we got home."

Rick had taken them out for sweet treats after the hospital ordeal, quoting her mantra that sweets were the best pain reliever. It certainly did cheer up both boys before they separated for the long break.

"Did she find a way to blame you yet?" Andrea asked, as she dug into her takeout container.

"Surprisingly, not really. She was just really worried, which is understandable. She just wanted to see how he was doing and she said some comforting things and she left. André was exhausted and she fulfilled the purpose of her visit."

"And now he's going off on his longest trip without you. I don't know how you're gonna cope."

"It's the worst timing ever. Of all the times for something like this to happen right?"

"No handstands in Vermont." Andrea shrugged. "They're probably going to be meeting stuffy people all day. Plenty of time to rest up."

"I already wrote out instructions for Michael just in case and I'll double check to make sure I haven't forgotten to pack anything he might need."

"You're such a Mom," Andrea grinned. "I can't wait until I get to act like that. I'm taking all my pointers from you. Never seen anyone do it better."

"All this flattery! What's going on girl?"

"You know you're my first love, babe," she laughed. "All the flattery for you. Especially since I'm buttering you up so that I can spend the night here. Huge damper on phone sex tonight, but Rick is going to have to learn to share. He'll have for the rest of the week _and_ the weekend for the real thing."

She wiggled her eyebrows while making a gyrating motion and Michonne threw a balled up napkin at her, fighting back laughter. Andrea ducked, expecting the assault and when the two women locked eyes, they burst into laughter reminiscent of their younger years when they spent late nights chatting about relationships over pizza and soda.

"Did you get that with what was his name from Saturday? Since you're minding my business, let me mind yours."

"Nah. I'm trying to change things up. Sexy times can wait until like the second or third date," she joked. "He's definitely future husband and baby making partner material though, so maybe we'll have Andrea Jr. and Rick Jr. together. Never know."

"Rick and I are not anywhere near the Rick Jr. level of our relationship yet, so you'll be waiting awhile."

Andrea rolled her eyes and twirled her plastic fork around with a dramatic sigh. "Well neither am I. Keep telling yourself you ain't there yet though." She shut her eyes, using the takeout container to mimic a crystal ball. "I predict a wedding by next Christmas. Maybe even Rick Jr."

"Well keep looking into that crystal ball of yours because I don't see a wedding in my future at all. Hell, I even see Rick Jr. before I see that."

"I definitely see Rick proposing."

Her hesitation on the matter wasn't necessarily because of fear of commitment, at least she didn't think it was. She simply couldn't form a positive association between weddings, marriage and the like. It wasn't a road she wanted to go down again.

She recalled a particular day when she was about fourteen or fifteen. There wasn't anything particularly special about that day. She remembered her mother fondly recounting her youth and how she found love. It was one of those times when she felt truly close to her and felt she was someone to aspire to be.

A successful woman with the perfect family, marriage and the like. As she grew, she realized that wasn't the path for her. Appearances were not reality.

"It's not about if he'll propose." Michonne was suddenly not in the mood for eating. "That's just not something I'm really interested in doing. I want something more than wearing a ring, saying 'in sickness and in health' and signing a paper. I want something to savour. And I definitely don't want none of that 'till death do us part' crap. When I love I want it to endure forever."

"You know, you can do both. And I don't know if Winnie will be happy about any more out of wedlock grandkids."

"Well it's not Winnie's life so she will have to deal. I'm not doing that shit again."

Andrea leaned back against the couch staring at the ceiling, having abandoned her her food container. "I've got baby fever so fucking bad, you don't even understand babe. Maybe I should go to a sperm bank." She giggled. "Or maybe I've got too much time on my hands. I should pick up another hobby. You like tennis?"

When Andrea picks up a hobby, it usually means the both of them.

Michonne joined in on the giggles. "We're entering drunk conversation territory. You been drinking?"

Her mouth spread into a mischievous grin. "Not yet." She jumped to her feet. "But great idea! Let's crack out a bottle of the good wine I know you keep in here. It's a girl's night!"

"I'm not trying to meet my ex to hand over my kid with a damn hangover tomorrow."

"Then we'll drink just enough to not get hungover. We don't need to get super drunk. Tipsy works. You'll be spilling all those candid relationship details in no time." She shuffled to the kitchen, turning to yell over her back as she walked. "The next topic is dick naming!"

MIchonne threw a throw pillow this time, narrowly missing Andrea as her walk turned into a skip. "I don't know why I even invite you into my house woman. All these years and you still haven't changed a damn bit."

And tipsy they were. The two friends spent the rest of the evening laughing about the silly things they did as young college students and eventually drifted off to sleep in the living room with their bottle of wine.

 **~TFW~**

Michonne spotted Michael across the lobby of her apartment building. He was sitting near one of the most hideous decorative plants she had ever laid eyes on, in deep conversation with a caramel-skinned woman with chin length curly dark brown brown hair. In all the years she lived in her building she held on to some hope that whoever was in charge of the interior design would come to their senses.

He glanced up as she approached with André's uninjured hand in hers. She waved at her favorite doorman just before stopping some feet away from him.

She thought about calling Michael and asking him to consider taking André on such a trip some other time. One where she would be slightly less sick with worry about her only child being more than an hour away from her.

Then she thought about him overreacting, throwing accusations and making their already strained relationship worse. She knew Michael loved his son and she needed to be able to trust that he will do his best to care for their injured child.

"Hi Michael."

"Michonne," he nodded in her direction.

"Hopefully you weren't waiting too long." She gestured to Andre's arm. "This adds a little more time to our routine, so we were a little behind time."

"Not too long. I know how you are with time management. We got here about ten minutes ago. I don't mind waiting for my son. He's mine and if that's how it's gotta be..." he shrugged his shoulders. "Then so be it."

The woman, whose back was facing Michonne, slowly turned around as he said this, wearing a polite smile as she looked expectantly at Michonne. "Hello."

Michonne tilted her head to the side, trying to place a name to the face. "Hi."

"Hi Miss Julie," said André with a small wave of his casted hand.

"Hey there handsome!" she cooed. "Are you excited about our trip? It's going to be really fun."

"Yes," he answered, still not letting go of his mother's hand.

She tapped her index finger against the cast. "I see you hurt your hand."

"Uh huh." He looked down at his cast. "I cried a lot, but Mommy, Carl and Rick made me feel better." He held out the cast closer for her to see properly. "It's green. My favorite. They drew pictures and Carl shared his stickers with me. Aunty Drea even drew something too."

Michonne's apartment was filled with laughter earlier that morning as Andrea entertained André while Michonne prepared breakfast, a task that couldn't be left to her friend who was practically inept in the kitchen.

Julie reached out her hand, playfully tousling his thick curls. "That's really cool. Are Rick and Carl your friends?"

He nodded his head. "Uh huh. They're friends with Mommy too. We like them a lot. Right Mommy." He looked up at his mother who smiled down at her little oversharer, giving him a small nod.

Michael stood up wearing a smirk on his face as he adjusted the jacket of his crisp gray designer suit. "Where are my manners, babe? You need a formal introduction. Michonne, this is my fiancée Julie Washington. Julie this is Michonne Westbrook, my ex."

Michonne smiled tightly, refraining from addressing his tone with the ex talk. She just wanted to get their encounter over with as painfully as possible. "Nice to meet you Julie. Congratulations."

Julie hesitated, her eyes shifting between Michael and Michonne. "Uh...yeah. Thank you. Nice meeting you too."

Michonne racked her brain realizing that the woman's face was very familiar, but she was unable to place it. She didn't think they went to Georgetown together, but it was possible. "Sorry." She realized she was staring. "Have we...met before?" she inquired. She knew she knew her from somewhere.

"Uh I think so. I'm pretty sure we must have seen each other in passing before. I was a paralegal at Gabriel and Banks with Michael and I was at Georgetown for a while." She suddenly found her shoes more interesting. "Plus, I'm familiar with your family and your Dad's politics. I hear he's doing better."

"Yeah, he's recovering pretty well."

"So, how long is he going to be like this?" Michael asked with, gesturing to the cast as he broke them from their conversation.

"The cast is supposed to come off in four weeks. That reminds me." Michonne held out André's hand for him to see. "It has a waterproof lining. But you should still be careful about getting wet. Have him prop it on a pillow or a stool or something, so there's not too much swelling. The doctor said, it should be fine as long as he's not feeling any pain or numbness."

"I just don't get how it's his wrist of all things that gets broken," Michael said with a humorless chuckle.

"He's a kid. Sometimes they fall and break things. Here are his bags." She handed them off to Michael. "His favorite blanket is in there. I also left some written instructions in his backpack pocket and you call or text anytime if you have any questions or if anything comes up. My phone is always on, so if there are problems or anything at all..."

"Relax," he chuckled. "I've spent plenty of time with my kid before. I know how it goes."

"I know that," she said in a hard tone. "But never this long and not while he's wearing a cast. I'm a Mom. I can be a little overcautious at times. Especially when my baby is hurt. This isn't a regular weekend away Michael."

"Don't worry. As his _Dad_ and I'm sure I can keep him safe and take good care of him. We'll have lots of extra eyes in Vermont too. Everyone's excited to meet little man."

Julie checked her watch, running a hand down Michael's chest. "Babe, we have to catch our flight in two hours and I really wanted to stop by Janet's before we leave. I have something for her."

"Oh that's right. We really can't afford any delays right now. I'll tell the driver to come around front." He slipped his phone out of his jacket. "Say bye to your mother André."

"Bye Mommy." He wrapped his little arms around her again.

"Bye baby. See you in a few days. Let me know when you guts get there, Michael."

"See you."

"Bye Michonne!" Julie said with a small wave. "We'll take good care of him I promise."

 _Washington. Julie Washington._

As she watched Julie's retreating form as the three of them exited the building, it all came back to her like a ton of bricks. She recognized Julie Washington alright. She looked a little different now, thinner with a different hair color and length, but she'd definitely seen her before.

They never knew each other very well, but they had similar social circles and she was at Georgetown for some time. However, her most recent memory of Julie stood out boldly in her mind. She was suddenly back in that hotel lobby from five years before, watching the angry woman retreat down the hallway after she congratulated her by name.

Why on earth would she act as if they'd never met? She was at their wedding. Michonne felt sick to her stomach as the possible reasoning dawned on her.

* * *

 **Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think. I know it's been a long wait and this chapter is a little shorter than usual, but I'm excited to finally have it out. Don't worry Michonne is going to handle this all in an excellent way.**


	17. Chapter Seventeen: The American Rome

**Chapter Seventeen: The American Rome**

* * *

Lucille Smith strutted across the spacious open-air marble structure holding a bouquet of burgundy chrysanthemums and peach roses at waist level. When she reached the edge of the platform, the bride-to-be twirled as if she was at the end of a runway at a high end fashion show.

"Oh, I love it Michonne! You are an absolute genius," Lucille gushed, flipping her blonde hair over her shoulder. "I can totally see it already. The curved aisle is an excellent idea and this place will be gorgeous in the pictures. I would have never thought to get married at the War Memorial. It incorporates everything we both want so perfectly and I think the only thing I might change is the flower arrangements. I'm thinking white roses instead."

"It is a pretty nice location and you're right about the roses. White will give a crisper and purer look," the mother of the bride agreed, looking out at the lush green grounds that surrounded the Doric structure.

Michonne couldn't quite remember her name. It was Terry or something. She was just glad the annoyingly talkative husband-to-be was absent.

"Well, I'm glad you like the location," Michonne replied with a tight smile as she flipped open her binder to make a quick note to call the florist. "The color change will be no problem."

She was mentally counting down the minutes until their little excursion ended. While she absolutely loved her job, her heart wasn't in it at that present moment. Her mind was simultaneously in the present and the past, recounting personal unresolved issues.

"I know I've probably been bombarding you with all my indecisive crap, but I just want this day to be absolutely perfect. It's my dream day, you know?" Her eyes were wide and earnest. "I'm going to be be Mrs. Negan Smith."

Almost six years prior, Michonne was in Lucille's position— albeit a little less enthusiastic. She was always half present in all the meetings with the florists, caterers and planners in that very city. In fact, they were mere minutes away from the church where family, friends, coworkers, and politicians had gathered to see her exchange vows with Michael.

She didn't remember displaying similar happiness and glee she saw in Lucille. She never twirled around like that or skipped into the air when Michonne revealed another detail. She was barely even involved in the planning. She was present when it was being planned, but she offered very little input, being content to go along with all suggestions.

Lucille's entire demeanor was different and she supposed it was a good sign. Here was a woman who would definitely make it down the aisle when the time comes. She seemed happy with her chatty fiancé, but Michonne didn't see why a contract was necessary when people start developing deep feelings. Tax benefits?

"It's fine Lucille. It's my job to make everything perfect." Michonne flashed a bright smile. "So we already have this area booked due to a last minute opening. We need to finalize the color change with the florist," She pointed to the sample bouquet. "We already have the photographers and videographers. Our next meeting is in about a week for the rehearsal dinner and reception plans and caterer and all that. And then the dress fitting for the bridal party will be the day after that."

"That sounds perfect." She retrieved her handbag from her mother. "Thank you so much. I have complete faith in you, so I know you'll wow me. That big 'ol binder of plans of yours already has me over the fucking moon."

"Language Lucille," he mother admonished lightheartedly as she hooked arms with her daughter.

"My potty mouth can't be helped," she laughed, throwing her head back. She laughed a lot, Michonne noticed. "So, see you next week Michonne? I have to get to the office. Thanks for meeting me so early."

"Yeah, see you guys next week. It's no problem." She gave a half wave as the two women descended the steps and made their way down the pathway, chatting animatedly as they went. Their excitement was palpable.

It was pure and positive and it filled her with an internal warmth.

Michonne sighed heavily as the disappeared from sight, reaching into her bag for her cell phone. She found Michael's number, reading the last text message she received from him at around eleven the previous night.

 **We're in Vermont. Just settled in. Little man is asleep. Will call in the morning.**

The only call she received that morning was from her mother, reminding her of the upcoming Easter brunch.

She sat down on the Memorial's marble steps, her thumb hovering over the name Michael Anthony — a name written in a manner that displayed the distance and almost businesslike nature of their current relationship.

After she connected everything related to Julie and Michael, her immediate thoughts were on confronting him.

She spent years believing a lie. She was grateful that she dodged the bullet that a marriage with Michael would be, but she also felt foolish. She didn't know for sure what happened between him and Julie that day, but it certainly didn't paint him as the martyr he liked to pretend to be.

He was just as bad as she was.

She wanted to confront him, but she didn't want him to mistake the reasons behind her rage for anything more than it was. So she didn't. "That stupid fucking asshole had some nerve to try to talk me back into a relationship," she muttered with a humorless laugh. "Of all things."

She pressed down on his name forcefully, as if he would feel it and cry out in pain. His voice came after four rings. "Hello." She may have walked away from a potentially disastrous marriage to him, but it pained her that she would have to hear that smug voice for years to come.

"André please," she said curtly.

"Good morning to you too Michonne," he said after a long pause. "Oh, how am I? I'm doing pretty fine. How are you?"

"Look Michael, I'm really not in the fucking mood right now, so can you please put my son on the phone? I'd like to tell him good morning since you couldn't bother to call." Her voice was firm, but it shook under the strain of her anger at the end.

He was silent for a moment and her anger grew even more. "Alright. Hold on a second I'll get him. We're actually about to head out to brunch so..." His voice trailed off as he moved the phone away to call for André.

"Hi mommy!"

"Hey baby," she cooed. "How are you? Did you have a good trip?"

"Yeah the airplane was really fun," he said. "How are you?" He returned her greeting. At that age kids aren't typically big on conversations.

She rested her head against the marble column behind her. "I miss you a lot," she said. "How's your wrist? No pain right? Remember if anything feels funny, you need to let your Dad know, okay?" She knew for a fact, if there were any complications, Michael wouldn't hesitate to call to complain and blame her somehow.

"Okay."

"Well, I just wanted to hear your voice and tell you good morning, since we didn't get to say goodnight last night. Have fun today. I love you."

"Love you too Mommy."

"Happy? You in a better mood now?" Michael was back on the other end.

"Listen, we need to talk," she said, keeping her tone neutral. "When you get back, I need to talk to you about some things. I don't know what that was yesterday and I honestly don't really care, but we need to have a serious and honest discussion about respect if we're going to do this co parenting thing without drama. It has to fucking stop."

She hung up before he could question her or make a smug comment. She didn't know if he knew that she knew, but she was in no mood to address it.

Her phone rang almost immediately after she hit the red button. A picture of her and Andrea at a beach retreat popped up on the screen. For a fleeting moment, she considered not answering. "Hey Andrea. What's up?"

"Hey babe! You still with the Smith's?"

"Just finished. They loved the location and I'm thinking it's one to reuse. It will photograph really well."

"Good to know. I have a big one coming up and it sounds like it might be their style too."

"Yeah, it's really nice. Can I call you later? I'm meeting Rick and Carl soon," she said, strumming her fingers against the edge of the binding. "We're going to spend the day here in DC. Carl is off school and he really wants to see some of the Smithsonian museums and the Capitol."

"Ooh a day out with the future husband and stepson? I was going to invite you to lunch with me and Jacqui, but you have way better plans."

She laughed. "Don't even joke about that."

"I already told you my crystal ball doesn't lie. I can't help it," Andrea said. There was a long pause as she waited for Michonne to respond. "You okay, babe?"

"Yeah...no. I don't even know anymore, but the words husband and wedding are the last things I want to hear right now," she said with a sigh. "I'll explain when I see you in person. I'm just tired of thinking and talking about terrible people and I'm running a little late to meet Rick and Carl at the Smithsonian Castle." She hung up without waiting for a full answer, resting her head against her knees.

If there was one thing she was good at and that was suppressing difficult emotions. She was an expert at running away—even from her own thoughts. In the past, she'd often find herself fearful of falling apart or letting her anger explode if she allowed herself to dwell— for even a moment —on the things that truly bothered her.

 **~TFW~**

Michonne approached the signature building of the Smithsonian on foot shortly before ten o'clock. It was a beautiful morning and she knew they were in for a nice day weather wise. She shook the nagging thoughts about Michael, Julie, and André out of her mind, not wanting them to mar their day out.

As she strolled down the brick path she spotted Rick in a light blue button down—it was definitely his color— and a smile spread across her face as a calm rushed through her. With each stride, her calm grew and she felt lighter.

Carl saw her approaching before Rick did and he nudged his father's arm before bounding toward Michonne. "Michonne!" An elderly couple ambling nearby looked up, startled as the ten-year-old careened past them narrowly avoiding physical impact. The man shook his head, muttering in a low voice as he guided his wife to the side.

She held her arms open for the oncoming embrace. "Hey! Careful. How are you today? I missed you!"

"I'm great!" He beamed up at her. "I don't have school for a while, which is awesome. We seriously need more breaks like this. I sure wish André was here too."

"Enjoy it while it lasts." She laughed, tousling his hair as he moved away and his father came in for his own greeting — a soft kiss on the lips. "Hey," she said softly with a smile as they pulled away. It had only been a little over a day, but she missed him.

"Hey to you too," he said, retuning her smile. "I missed seeing that smile."

"This smile?" She playfully pointed to her face, feeling even more of her tension easing away. _He_ made her feel that way and it still amazed her.

They had almost forgotten they were in the middle of a busy path when Carl's voice interrupted them. "I think I want to start at the Air and Space. Looks cool." He was flipping through a pocket guide.

"We were just at the Visitor Center," Rick explained, pointing backward at the red sandstone Castle with his thumb. He wrapped an arm around her waist, turning to address his son. "See anything else you like?"

"A lot," he said. "But that's at the top of the list. Do you work here?"

"Not exactly here. My office is actually back in Alexandria, which isn't too far."

"Oh, Dad said you were working here so you'd be a little late." He looked up at his father with a questioning brow and the man looked to Michonne with a grin.

"Well I'm also a wedding planner, remember? Somebody is having their wedding at a memorial here in D.C., so I had to take them to see if they liked it," she explained.

"Oh. Well that makes sense."

"My Dad works here though and my uncle. He works at the Smithsonian as a history curator."

"Cool. Hey, do you get to go to a bunch of weddings, then? I've never been to a wedding."

"Yeah I'm usually around somewhere to make sure everything goes well." She held out her hand for the guide and when Carl handed it over she quickly flipped through it before handing it back. "Okay, we'll definitely do Air and Space. There's actually a family day series happening today, so there'll be lots of hands-on stuff" She looked up at Rick. "What about you? Anything you're dying to see."

Rick shrugged. "I think Carl has this down." He was just glad to have a day out with Michonne and Carl and was content to have them steer the course of their adventure. "You two cooked up this idea."

"Sure you don't want to go to the Postal museum?" Michonne jokingly suggested, poking his chest.

"Nooo," protested Carl, flipping through the book as the two adults laughed. "He's right. I'll just pick for him. I love you Dad, but you're a little boring sometimes."

"We'll just wing it," Michonne assured Carl. "Right Rick?"

"I don't know…" Rick winked in her direction. "I do love stamps."

Carl immediately shut him down. "Dad, no. We're winging it."

"Actually, there's a food festival on the Mall today," Rick said, grabbing Carl and playfully ruffling his hair. "We're eating food from around the world for lunch. Now let's go see some art and airplanes."

Carl spun his head in Michonne's direction as they started walking away from the castle. "Your Dad works at the Capitol building, right? You ever been inside?"

"Yeah, lots of times. I was in this area a lot growing up and I went to a college not too far from here so I basically know this place like the back of my hand," she said. "We're actually gonna head this way first and then we'll go to the Air and Space after, okay?"

They rambled around the castle, passed the Ripley Center and the Freer Gallery, and went across the Enid Haupt Garden to the entrance pavilion of the National Museum of African Art. It was one of Michonne's favorites of the Smithsonian and she was particularly interested in seeing the new exhibit of the arts of the Swahili coast.

"Okay. From the outside, this doesn't seem as spectacular or grand as the other museums, but I think it's a hidden gem," she said as they entered the pavilion. "I thought this would be a good place to start. I am an artist after all. I like to start from the bottom when and work up. It's a really small selection, but it's well put together and it's a great…" She searched for the right words, knowing she was about to sound incredibly pretentious. "Visual journey. Plus it's not as crowded as the other ones."

"Hey Michonne?" Carl called. "When you paint and stuff, does it end up in a museum like this. Like the ones you showed us."

She chuckled. "Not quite like this, but I do small exhibits at local galleries. Your Dad has been to one."

"Yeah. She's the real deal," Rick added, pulling Michonne closer against his side as the started to descend the stairs. "People couldn't take their eyes of what she made. It was like she was the only artist there."

"I _was_ the only artist there," she laughed, playfully shoving his arm.

"See? I was so lost in your genius, I didn't even realize that."

"Can I come next time?" Carl asked.

"Of course," she said. "I think you just read my mind because I was just about to extend the invitation."

"Awesome." Carl noticed up at the ceiling above the stairwell and immediately gasped and pointed. "Oh wow. Dad look! It's so cool looking." A grin spread across his face. "I think I should get a skylight in my room."

Michonne was pleased with his reaction. It reminded her of the times when she brought André. Her son found fountains captivating and they would often sit on the benches below, surrounded by soft earthy hues, watching the water spout into the air.

"When I was your age, I begged my mother for one," Michonne said as they arrived to the ground floor. "Even though it would have been completely impractical considering where my bedroom was. I just wanted one because one of my favorite characters in a book had one."

"You're not getting a skylight," Rick said dryly, just as Carl was about to make his case.

"Seriously?"

"Seriously."

Carl twisted his mouth to the side as if deep in thought. "Okay, I'll take that answer for now. I just have to make a better case for myself." He ran ahead of them, beginning to observe the exhibitions at his own pace.

"Missing André?" Rick asked, likely noticing a difference —however slight— in her countenance.

"Like crazy. I know he's fine with his father, but…" She sucked in a breath, unsure of where she was going with the conversation. Everytime said father was brought back to mind, her anger bubbled up again. "I guess I'm just in a really tough place right now."

His brow furrowed, his eyes scrutinizing her. "You okay?"

"I'm fine."

She fidgeted, checking the time and wishing she could turn her mind off. She let go of his arm, stepping away from him. She broke her gaze, preferring to rest her eyes on a glass display case that she could barely focus on. She felt like talking, but not directly about what was truly bothering her.

Her mind was a strange ocean and she rarely let any stray thoughts escape her strong guard. She wasn't sure if she was taught to hide what she felt, or if it was simply in her nature.

"I don't...I don't really like weddings." The words escape her lips like vapor. She felt like she should be sharing something. It wasn't what was bothering her at the moment, but it was a strange peculiarity that she didn't quite understand about herself. "I don't hate them. I love my job and I enjoy the planning aspect and creating the whole fairytale aesthetic, but that's about where it ends. It's like it drains and energizes me at the same time."

He wore an expression of intrigue. "Why do you think that is? Sounds like a love hate relationship. Is it weddings or just marriage in general? You wouldn't want a wedding one day?"

"I don't know. Maybe...I don't know. I think the museum is probably just making me fake deep all of a sudden. Art can do that, you know," she grinned, evading his question skillfully. She didn't know why she brought up that subject of all things. "This is really pretty." She pressed her index finger against the glass case. "Wish I had that kind of talent. I'm not much of a sculptor."

Rick appeared perturbed by the capricious nature of the conversation, but he went along with the hasty subject change. "Well I can barely hold a paintbrush the right way up so…"

Her eyes drifted down suggestively. "Well you have other talents. Better talents."

"I feel like I'm being objectified right now and I am completely okay with that." He stepped closer to her, standing dangerously close with their bodies aligned.

She threw her arms around his neck and tipped her head upwards to kiss him. His arms wrapped around her waist and they lightly pressed up against the display case, their kiss deepening. She almost forgot they were in a public museum until someone cleared their throat loudly.

They pulled away to find a man staring back at them through wire rimmed glasses with a disapproving look.

"Oh. You want to see this display?" Michonne asked, pointing to the case her body was practically pinned to. Her voice had an apologetic note, but the double entendre wasn't lost on any of them.

The man responded by pursing his lips and looking between the case and them with an expression that hovered between impatience and amusement.

"We'll just be getting out of your way, then," Rick said, taking Michonne's hand and scanning the room for Carl, who was distracted with his guide book in a nearby section. He peered back at the glass with a nervous chuckle. "No uh...smudges or anything."

"No smudges or anything?" Michonne laughed, when they were out of earshot.

"There was so much judgement in that man's eyes. I didn't know whether to laugh or apologize," Rick defended. "Like getting caught doing something wrong by a parent."

Michonne remembered a phone call she received earlier that morning from the Westbrook matriarch. "Oh, speaking of parents, my mother really wants us to come to her over the top Easter celebration this Sunday."

He arched a brow. "Oh? So I was a hit after all. And here I was thinking that Mrs. Westbrook hates me. This is such a confidence boost," he added sarcastically.

"Well, it's not a sit down thing like last time, so she'll most likely be too busy to even pay attention to us. It's more of a garden party and we don't even have to stay until dinner," she explained. "We can bring Carl." He still looked a little incredulous. "And you'll meet the rest of my crazy family," she added in a teasing tone. "But we don't have to if you don't want to. I mean it's fine. You probably have other plans with your sister-in-law and everything. It's fine if you can't."

"I'd love to go," he said, stopping her from rambling further. "I just hope there won't be any more Dominics."

Her smile faltered. "I asked her not to do anything like that. And don't worry, I don't have that many exes still sitting around waiting to be used in my mother's ploy to hate on you."

"Whoa."

"Sorry." She didn't mean for her tone to come out so harsh. "It's just that, she is how she is and you just have to play along and not let her get to you. It's better to be on her good side and then keep her at arms length."

She didn't tell him about the thinly-veiled taunting she received when Winnie implied that she was just as commitment shy with Rick as she was with Michael. She didn't appreciate that comparison. Rick was nothing like Michael and although she'd never admit it, she felt like she had to prove something.

There was still a desire to please.

Maybe she really was commitment shy, but she wasn't ashamed of Rick as her mother insinuated. If they didn't show up together on Sunday, it would be confirmation in Winnie's eyes regardless of it being true or not. Michonne refused to give her another weapon.

"Alright," he sighed. "You understand her better than I do. Sunday it is."

"Let's go keep the boy company," she said, giving him a quick peck on the lips. "We're terrible chaperones."

"You're the one that started sweet talking me and doing that thing with your eyes and mouth."

"What thing?" She asked, biting her lip as if she didn't know what he was talking about.

He put an arm around her waist leading her toward the section Carl was beginning to wander into. "You know exactly what thing."

"I love you." She just felt like saying it.

His eyes met hers and the way he looked at her left her breathless and made her feel like the world stopped. His love for her was evident in his eyes. "That I know. Love you too."

They moved through the museum in a short amount of time due to its small size. Michonne stopped at the gift shop to pick up a book and other knick knacks and they were on their way to fulfill the next activity on their list. Carl was immensely entertained at the Air and Space museum, enjoying the hands on activities and the virtual reality simulators. By afternoon, he was already declaring two new dream jobs for when he grew up —astronaut or pilot.

"I can still train animals on the side," Carl had told his father as an aside. "But this is what I wanna do. Build this stuff or fly them."

They spent the early afternoon, enjoying a food festival featuring cuisine from around the world on the National Mall as Rick suggested. Carl was especially taken with the variety of dessert vendors.

"Have you ever been to any of these places Michonne?" Carl asked, as they strolled through the streets enjoying a sweet Turkish dessert.

"A few," She answered, glancing around at the people in their cultural wear. "We tried to go somewhere different for most family vacations."

"We're going to have to consider going off to some of these places just to enjoy their food," Rick commented. "Where was that last one from again? The place with the...SeaMoss drink?"

"Trinidad."

"Adding that to the list Carl."

After filling their stomachs, the trio continued their jaunt on the National Mall and ended the day with a dinner and a play. By the time they were making the twenty minute drive back to Alexandria, Carl was fast asleep and Michonne's mind was occupied with thoughts she wished would remained suppressed.

* * *

 **There you have it. Let me know what you think in the reviews! I enjoy reading them so much. Thanks so much for all the wonderful feedback on the last chapter. I know you're all waiting for** _ **that**_ **confrontation. Not quite there yet.**

 **Look out for the final chapter (or two) of Five Days in Porter.**


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